


All the King's Men

by fizzfooz



Series: Steps [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bottom Ignis Scientia, Bullying, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Hazing, M/M, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-05-06 21:38:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 62,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14656754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzfooz/pseuds/fizzfooz
Summary: Written for this Kink Meme prompt:"Ignis is posh, polite, and seems like an easy target. A few of the more douchey Kingsglaive decide to haze him. It starts off tame (think pranks) but gradually gets worse and worse. Ignis doesn't want to cause trouble or for people to think he's weak so he doesn't complain or even actively covers for them."Contains bullying, hazing, and sexual harassment so please don't read on if any of those things are a trigger for you.





	1. Chapter 1

Ignis saw the necessity of training with people other than Gladio, he truly did. By now Gladio's movements were so etched in his mind, he could probably defend himself from him in his sleep. Plus Cor Leonis, the legendary Immortal, could hardly become his personal tutor. It was just that board rooms and banquets were infinitely more familiar to him than the crowded and noisy locker rooms of the glaives, smelling of sweat and testosterone.

His fingers were locked around the buttons of his dress shirt as if he'd been petrified. There were so many other men packed in here he could practically feel their body heat. And the rest of them certainly didn't have the same reservations about undressing. Many of them were _completely naked_ , chatting loudly with their friends with everything hanging out as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Ignis had expected the glaives to have a more private arrangement, like the stalls in Noctis' private training area. He had been foolish in the extreme.

Was _still_ being foolish. No one was looking. He just had to be quick swapping out his current outfit for the infinitely more practical attire that had been provided for him. He sprinted through swapping out his shirt and undershirt for the woefully tight black tank top of the Glaive's training uniform. Halfway there. Only the trousers to go. He'd barely removed them when someone slammed their hand into the locker door next to his head.

“Hey! New kid!”

Although Ignis was now only clad in his briefs and a tank top and blushing to the tips of his ears, he forced himself to turn to acknowledge the greeting. “How may I help you?”

The man was huge and bearded, built like a great bear. He was closer to Regis' age than Ignis' with streaks of white threaded through both the hair on his head and the hair on his face. The glaives were mostly refugees and came in all shapes and sizes so it wasn't unusual for the trainees to be of mixed ages. “You Tenebrian?” the man asked. “Didn't think anyone escaped from there.”

Ignis shook his head, positively stewing in the embarrassment of being addressed in his underwear. “I'm Lucian.”

“Seriously, Fortis?” Another man stepped in to drag him away. “Anything that moves!”

“I was just saying hello!”

“He's too young for you anyway.” The new man dropped into an urgent whisper but he was not being nearly as discreet as he thought. Ignis distinctly heard _from the Citadel_ and _prince's chamberlain_. He tried to ignore it and took advantage of the distraction to slip into his sweatpants. Of course that left him with nothing urgent to attend to. He stared determinedly at his locker door. He could hardly mill around the rest of the room with all of this blatant nudity going on.

“Iggy!” Gladio to the rescue. He wrapped his arm around Ignis' neck in a fiercely one-sided hug and presented him to the room. “Listen up, guys. Go easy on Iggy, yeah? It's his first day.”

“Gladio, I'm sure--”

Two young men closer to his and Gladio's age than the rest scoffed loudly at him. They were twins and – Gods help him – very attractive, standing unabashedly in their underwear. They clearly hailed from somewhere other than Insomnia. Both with bright red hair and brown eyes, dappled with even more freckles than Noct's friend Prompto. Each had a slightly different constellation of them. Probably the only way their parents could distinguish between them.

“His hair's pretty light,” one of them said. “You sure he's not a Niff?”

“Nope!” Gladio said, patting his impressively developed chest. “Born and bred in the Crown City just like yours truly.”

“Does he speak?” the other twin said.

“Boy does he. Go on, Iggy. Introduce yourself.”

Gladio released him and Ignis held out his hand to the pair. “Ignis Stupeo Scientia. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

He had the distinct impression he'd failed some sort of test. They gave his hand identical scowls and neither of them shook it. He wilted, drawing his hand back to his side. What had he done wrong? _Why_ was that wrong? He'd been perfectly polite and enunciated exactly the way he'd been taught to, hadn't he?

“Call him Iggy,” Gladio said cheerfully, as if he was part of an entirely different exchange. “Iggy, this is Castor and Pollux.”

“Why's he here? He's one of the suits, right?”

“No way! Iggy's kicked my ass more times than I can count.”

The doubt was written all over their faces but Ignis didn't have time to dwell on it. Gladio dragged him all over the changing room, introducing him to various glaives in varying states of undress. By the time they'd done a full circuit Ignis' face was so hot and flushed he was amazed his eyebrows hadn't vaporised. As if the endless parade of pecs and bulges hadn't been bad enough, they were universally unimpressed with him.

“They think you're some kinda stuffy bureaucrat,” Gladio said. “They'll come round once they see you in action.”

He was a stuffy bureaucrat and he was perfectly content to remain that way. “It's all right, Gladio. They don't need to like me.”

“Hey, don't say that. They just don't know you yet. Shoulda seen the attitude they copped with me at first for being an Amicitia. Try and loosen up a little. It'll help.”

He made it sound so easy.

Gladio grinned slyly. “Anyone hit on you yet?”

The question caught Ignis so off-guard he could only stutter out an “Excuse me?”

Gladio snort-laughed. “Remember how I told you to loosen up? I know everyone upstairs is so uptight a fart would probably get 'em exiled but things ain't like that down here. The glaives are always in each other's faces. So they fuck. A lot. And you're pretty eye-catching, you know?”

No he did not know. He made sure he was presentable certainly but that was-- this was-- he was not--

Thankfully he was spared from more on this topic by Cor screaming at them to “cover up their dicks and get moving”.

###

The drills were repetitive and exhausting. Endlessly accessing the crystal's magic in different combinations in order to counter whatever his sparring partner produced. Today his was a femaleglaive who refused to even talk to him. Gladio was absolutely hopeless with raw magic and always had been. Hence the need for training with others more adept at it. But he and his partner were making a joke of it. And contrary to what Gladio had said about them seeing him in action, every counter only seemed to infuriate this glaive more. She tried to hit him with a scorching flame that could have engulfed his entire body. Instinctively he countered with enough ice to put out the flame and drench them both in icy water.

“Alanda!” Cor roared. “Control yourself. Nice work, Scientia.”

The praise from Cor earned Ignis glares. Not just from Alanda. Cor didn't notice, too distracted by Gladio setting his trousers on fire.

“Amicitia! I told you no fire!”

###

At the end of the session, Gladio was immediately swallowed by a crowd of admiring Glaives. Ignis returned to the lockers alone to retrieve his clothing. He was still shivering so hard his teeth were starting to chatter from the icy water but the thought of sharing a shower with so many other people left him even colder. He held his clothes and the normalcy they represented to his chest and tried to dash off, accidentally bumping someone in his rush to get out of the door.

“I'm sorry--” he began, looking up into the sneering face of another glaive. Albus, he believed? There had been so many names bit there always were when he was dealing with Crown business and he tried to retain them so as not to offend.

“Look, it's the King's cockwarmer,” Albus said, to sniggers from the others.

Ignis gasped. “That is certainly not one of my duties!”

They only laughed at him.

###

It hadn't been that bad, he tried to reason with himself. They were only words. He dealt with words all the time. Those words might not be nearly as personal but there was much more at stake during the course of his usual duties. But the closer it got to his next training session with the glaives, the heavier his stomach felt. At least he was more prepared this time. He arrived already dressed in his training gear and waited outside the changing room for the session to begin.

Which gave Cor pause when he came to summon the rest of the recruits. “Everything all right, Scientia?”

“Yes, sir.”

Cor peered at him as if the lie was written on his face. “You sure about that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Uh-huh. A word of advice: avoiding them's not gonna make you fit in any better.”

Was he really that obvious?

“They're not bad. Not really, kid. But you know what it's gonna look like if you don't change with them? If you run on to your private room to shower when most of them don't have a bedroom to themselves?”

Like the truth? That he wanted peace and quiet. “No, sir.”

“Like you think you're better than them. I don't wanna see you hanging around out here again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Cor was so insightful in some ways. And Ignis could certainly see the truth of it. But Cor either didn't notice or didn't care about the looks some of the Glaives gave him when they thronged out of the changing room. And he was gone when someone pinched Ignis' buttock hard enough to make him yelp. The culprit was immediately lost in the crowd.

###

Ignis tried. He really did. But conversations here didn't work the way he was used to. He thought he had a handle on what was wrong with his last introduction. It was too formal. The glaive assigned to him today was at most ten years Ignis' senior with mousy brown hair and rather attractive dark brown eyes. Lots of the glaives were very attractive. He wished he could stop noticing. It only made this whole thing more awkward. He couldn't quite recall this one's exact name but this was an opportunity to find it out and perhaps make things more cordial.

“I'm Iggy,” he said. Gladio called him that and the glaives all seemed to like Gladio.

“Yeah, I know.” They were practising polearms today with long wooden sticks. Ignis ducked another of his blows. “Ignis Stupeo Scientia. How old are you, kid?”

“Seventeen.” Almost eighteen, as he kept insisting when the council were dubious about him doing anything 'at his age'.

“Child prodigy, huh?” He said it like it was an insult.

 _Like you think you're better than them._ “No! Not at all.” He was so desperate to protest that the blow to his temple caught him off-guard. It sprawled him onto his back. He raised his own training lance to defend from the next blow, then sprang up with a hands-free kick-up. He wasn't a prodigy. He'd worked hard, learning gymnastics and defence from the moment he could walk so that he could protect Noct. That was the entire reason he was here in the first place. The glaive rained blows on him, chasing him from one side of the hall to the other with each successive block.

He'd only been trying to make conversation!

“HEY!” Gladio blocked the next one with enough force to snap the glaive's training lance in half. “Going a little hard there, ain't ya?”

Ignis winced. He wished Gladio hadn't done that. He had been doing a perfectly good job of defending himself.

“Thought you were meant to be the prince's shield,” the glaive hissed.

“I'll be a fist in your fucking face if you try a stunt like that again.”

“Amicitia!” Oh, now Cor noticed. “What are you up to now? Voxio? You're supposed to be fighting the empire, not each other.

“And you're supposed to be keeping an eye on things!” Gladio said. He was making a spectacle. Absolutely everyone's eyes were on them.

“My office, Amicitia. Now. You too, Voxio.”

“I was only training!” Voxio protested.

“Like hell you were. Both of you get to my office before I jam half of that broken sword up each of your asses-- You listening to me, Amicitia?”

“Iggy?”

Ignis blinked something out of his eye. It took feeling with his fingers to realise it was blood.

“Go get a potion, Scientia. Then medical.”

“I feel fine!” He knew what leaving early would look like. Like preferential treatment. And he was sure he was fine. He didn't feel concussed. It was only a cut for goodness' sake.

“None of that was a suggestion, you three,” Cor said. “Get to it.”

###

Ignis had rarely noticed the glaives before. Now they seemed to be everywhere; whispering, glaring, and generally making him feel conspicuous. Most of them were content to keep their distance from him but Voxio cornered him on one of the corridors, delaying him en route to pick up Noct.

“You got me and Gladio into trouble,” he said.

They got _themselves_ into trouble. Really it was the sheer inaccuracy of the statement that was the most galling. He hadn't provoked Voxio and he hadn't asked for Gladio's assistance. But that would hardly be a diplomatic response so Ignis presented his most neutral face. “I apologise for your inconvenience.”

“Listen, you little shit. I don't care whose dick you're sucking--”

“I'm not!” That was the second accusation of that ilk in a matter of days. Where in the world were they getting that impression? He was underage, for goodness' sake. King Regis would never do such a thing.

“Course not. You're just some pretty little orphan the rich folk keep around out of charity. It's not like I care about who's bending you over. But I do care about you batting your eyelashes at Cor so he does whatever you want.”

“ _You_ attacked _me_. We were supposed to be practising forms.”

“And you've got Gladio wrapped around your little finger.”

It was like they were having two different conversations. “I didn't ask Gladio to protect me, nor do I need him to.”

“He jumped right in there, though. You must have an ass like Ifrit himself.”

Now Gladio too? Was there anyone he wasn't sleeping with according to these baseless rumours? “What do you want from me?”

Apparently even Voxio himself didn't know. The question stumped him for a few seconds. “I want you to stop pissing me off!”

How was he supposed to do that? His very existence seemed to piss Voxio off. “Excuse me. I have duties to attend to.”

Voxio grabbed the front of Ignis' shirt as he tried to move away. “Oh no you don't.”

“I don't want to fight you.” He sincerely didn't. How would it look if surveillance caught him brawling in the halls like a common thug? And the possibility of one of the members of the High Council walking in on such a scene didn't bear thinking about. No, he should be able to de-escalate the situation. “Voxio. It was never my intention to inconvenience you, nor did I want you to be punished.”

“Suck my dick, Scientia.”

But the grip on his shirt loosened by a fraction. “Please,” Ignis said. “There's no need for all of this unpleasantness. I don't understand what I did to warrant this kind of hostility.” A bit too much sincerity slipped into that. His voice wobbled.

“Shit.” Voxio finally released him. “Kid. I'm... these Lucians really aren't fucking you?”

“No! Of course not.”

“You any idea what it's like outside the Wall? Where the Niffs don't even think it's worth annexing?”

Some. But that was knowledge gleaned from figures and graphs, from reported troupe movements, a spreading black presence on a printed map. Not the reality of fleeing for his life. “No.”

“Well, it sucks. And most of us aren't Lucians by choice, you know? The set-up you've got here is weird as shit. Some kid saying he's gonna be the prince's Shield and some other kid being a-- what looked like the prince's slave. And Cor the Immortal on the fucking battlefield since he was fifteen. The only reason the Niffs don't use child soldiers is cause they've got those fucking magiteks.”

“None of us are child soldiers.”

“Yeah, yeah. And the sun shines out of King Regis' asshole, right?”

“He's a great man and a great ruler.”

“They said that about Aldercapt once too.”

They were nothing alike. “If you really believed all of that, then I was a victim too. Why were you so angry at me?”

“Cause I'm dumb.” Voxio patted his pockets and produced a carton of cigarettes. “You want one?”

“No, I do not. And there's no smoking in here.” Ignis hesitated. He didn't like to be tardy but Noctis was always late himself. “The next time someone implies that King Regis is... is...”

“Fucking you?”

Ignis flushed. “You will correct them, yes?”

“Yeah, yeah kid. Didn't you have some kinda duty to attend to?”

###

It was naïve to expect things to change with just one person but knowing where the anger came from made it easier to deal with at least. Ignis took Cor's advice. He changed with the glaives. He did his best to converse with them. They were not very receptive but they no longer tried to flout the rules that Cor imposed. He still couldn't quite bring himself to use the communal shower but surely they could tell he was trying. It was rote now. Change quickly. Train with the glaives. Gather his things and escape to shower in private. There was no reason why this session should be any different.

“Gladio reckons the kid's a virgin.”

It was a stage whisper. One he was obviously meant to hear. He stared at his locker door, face burning. Surely not. They must be talking about someone else. Gladio wouldn't talk about him in such a manner.

“Explains a lot. He didn't know where to look when Pollux was swinging his dick around last week. Kid blushes more than he talks.”

“Kinda cute. Someone should show him around a dick.”

“I'd throw him a fuck.”

“You'd fuck your own ass if you could reach.”

“You saying you wouldn't? Kid's obviously thirsty for it.”

“Sounds like you're the one who's thirsty.”

They hadn't mentioned his name. It could be anyone. Gladio had warned him that the glaive's locker room conversations could be crude. And if some of the remarks hit a little too close to home then that was just coincidence.

“Hey, remember what Gladio said? Be nice. He doesn't get out much.”

“I'd be real nice.”

“Dude, fucking the prince's advisor's probably like high treason or something.”

Ignis fled the locker room. All through training all he think of was _Gladio says he's a virgin_ and _Gladio says he doesn't get out much_. He botched several of the drills because there was simply no room in his head for anything else. It got to the point that Cor made him run extra laps.

When he was finished, he didn't bother to collect his clothes. Instead he caught up with Gladio who took one look at his face and excused himself from his horde of admiring glaives.

“Iggy? What's wrong?”

“What were you thinking, discussing my sex live with strangers?” Ignis kept his voice level and quiet with great effort. The glaives had chosen to linger and eavesdrop and the last thing he needed was for them to overhear.

“ _What_? Oh. Oh shit, Iggy. It wasn't like that.”

“What _was_ it like?”

“Not-- I didn't-- Look, some of the guys-- It's just guy talk, you know?”

“No, I don't.”

Gladio looked longingly at his group of friends and then back at Ignis. “About who they'd fu-- Who they've slept with. Who's got the best ass. What they'd like to do to who. Stuff like that.”

Oh, that stuff. Yes, what perfectly reasonable stuff that was to discuss. Gladio was supposed to be better than this! “And?”

“And someone brought you up and it got a bit-- I swear, Iggy. I told them to shut it.”

“It appears you told them a lot of things.”

Gladio squirmed. “What? What do you mean?”

“That I'm a virgin. Does that ring any bells?”

The guilt was written all over Gladio's face. Ignis turned to leave because the prince's adviser fist-fighting the prince's shield was a scene no one needed to see. “Wait!” Gladio said, clinging to his arm. “I was trying to stick up for you.”

“Excellent job!”

“No. Wait, Iggy, please. They were saying all kinds of stuff about you. I just wanted them to know it wasn't true.”

All _kinds_ of stuff? Ignis snatched his arm away. “Wonderful friends you have there.”

Gladio rejoined the Glaives as Ignis stormed away.

“Trouble with the missus?” one of them teased.

“Shut the fuck up,” Gladio said.


	2. Chapter 2

There was shaving cream in Ignis' locker the next time he opened it. His training gear was absolutely ruined. Really? _Really_? Of all the childish, stupid-- He slammed the locker door shut.

“Ah fuck, Iggy,” Gladio said, appearing behind him as if he could also warp. “Maybe someone has some spare sweats?”

“I don't recall asking for your help.”

Gladio blanched. Apparently he'd expected everything to be forgiven and forgotten just like that. “Hey... come on, Iggy. I'm sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

 _By never having said it._ Everything was so easy for him. Everyone clamoured for his approval without him ever having to try. No one maliciously gossiped about him or played uvenile pranks on him. “You can't.”

“Iggy, please...”

They were interrupted by one of the twins holding a spare tank top and sweatpants out to him. “Here. These should fit.”

“You're a lifesaver, Pollux,” Gladio said. “Right, Iggy?”

Ignis took the clothes, pathetically grateful just for that small kindness. “Thank you. It's... It's much appreciated.”

“Geez,” Pollux said, his freckle-dappled cheeks flushing. “It's not a kidney.” He hurried back to his business.

“Shit. Are you okay, Iggy?” Gladio said, when Pollux went back to his business.

“Yes.” His eyes had welled up but he contained himself. It would be absurd to cry over something like this. “I'm well.”

“You wanna put your stuff in my locker?”

The sad puppy eyes Gladio gave him should not have been so adorable on such a large man but Ignis' anger melted away the second he looked at him. “Yes. Thank you, Gladio.”

###

When they returned from training, Gladio's locker had been broken open. But the only things that had been taken were Ignis' clothing. He eventually found them stuffed down one of the toilets, an errant sock swimming in the water that had flooded over the tiles.

“All right,” Gladio roared at the glaives. “Which one of you fucking jokers did this?”

“Gladio,” Ignis said, trying to restrain him before he rampaged about the place like a rabid behemoth. “It doesn't matter.”

“Like hell it doesn't! If I catch you, you're gonna know about it!”

“It was only a joke.” Honestly, the last thing he needed was for the glaives to think Gladio fought his battles for him. Besides, he couldn't give whoever this was the satisfaction of seeing him upset. “Please, Gladio,” he added, more quietly. “This won't help.”

Gladio reluctantly backed off. He lingered when Ignis stayed to clean up the locker, helping where he could. They ended up in the bathroom again, Gladio wringing out the worst of the dampness from his clothes while Ignis did his best to scrub them with soap in preparation for a proper clean later.

“You sure you're okay, Iggy?”

“I'm fine.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know if anyone bothers you I'll kick their ass, right?”

“Please don't.”

Gladio didn't protest, just wrung out Ignis' shirt into the sink again. It looked comically small in his massive hands. Ignis was catching up in height but he'd never be quite as broad as him. He'd never be intimidating enough to prevent things like this before they even began. “You want me to finish up here?” Gladio offered. “You've gotta have work. You're always working.”

Of course he did. This was eating into the admin time he'd allowed himself and would mean another late night to catch up on it all. “Nothing urgent.” He'd also meant to send Noct a few texts gently reminding him that his homework might wait until the evening before it was due but he'd be far wiser to get a start on it now. “Gladio...”

“Yeah?”

“What kind of things do the glaives say about me?”

“That's not gonna help, Iggy.”

“It would help me considerably more than imagining it.”

Gladio sighed. “They think you're stuck-up.” He held up a hand to cut off Ignis' protests. “I've told them you're just shy but they're not very smart. They'd know you better if they were. And...”

“And?”

“They, uh, a few of them are kinda... They think you're hot. Cause you are. There's also, um... I shut it down, I promise. I bust Albus' fucking nose over it. Some of them had a bet. Over who was gonna fuck you first.”

It was like being slapped in the face. “ _Me_?”

“Yeah... Look, you're not the only one. They're bored and horny.”

“That doesn't make it better!”

“No. I know it doesn't. Look, they're good guys really. They just don't know you yet. Try and socialise a bit, huh?”

“I have been trying!”

“Yeah but only when you have to. That makes it look like you think it's an obligation, right? Try and hang around with us after training when you don't have meetings or whatever. I know you're not stuck-up. Let them see it too.”

###

After that, Ignis really had no choice to agree when Gladio invited him out for a meal with his glaive friends after their next training session. The session itself passed without incident. Largely due to Gladio hovering over him the whole time like a gigantic mother hen. They all piled into a booth that was far too small for the party, Ignis wedged between Gladio and the twins. At least it gave him the opportunity to return Pollux's clothing to him, freshly laundered and with all of the holes he'd found sewn up.

“Thanks,” Pollux said. “The marshall's always on my ass about going through so many of these.”

“He is?” Cor could certainly be strict but that seemed a minor thing for him to be concerned about.

“We don't all have a royal tailor, Scientia.”

Nor did he. He'd covered his own expenses from his stipend since he was old enough to be cognisant of such things. But he also didn't have any authority figures keeping track of how many pairs of trousers he went through. Gladio shoved a menu at him before he could think any more on the subject.

“Nothing like you can make but it fills ya up,” Gladio said.

It was full of the greasy fare that Noct would stuff his face with given half a chance. Not a salad in sight. Beside him, Pollux and Castor were having a heated discussion about whether they could afford an extra large bucket of fries between them. Others were grumbling about how they'd have to make do with cafeteria food. Were the trainees really given such a poor wage that this was an elaborate expense for them?

“Order whatever you like,” Ignis said. “I'll foot the bill.”

It earned him several thanks, a few slaps on the back, and an approving grin from Gladio. He hid behind his menu in search of the least greasy thing on it until his blushes had faded. Really, it was nothing. He could more than afford it. He eventually settled on curly fries and a milkshake. If Noct found out he'd never hear the end of it so he hoped Gladio kept quiet about this little excursion.

“So you're some kinda babysitter for the prince?” Castor asked him, while they tucked into their food. The focus of both twins was overwhelming. Must they be so attractive?

“Advisor,” Ignis said.

“Right, advisor,” Pollux said. “So what do you do?”

“What doesn't he do?” Gladio said. “Cooks his meals, cleans up after him, makes him do his homework--”

“Like his mom?”

“There's rather more to it than that,” Ignis said, not wanting to rehash a familiar argument about whether or not Noct took him for granted. “But we're outside of work right now. Let's not let it intrude.”

The silence opened up again. This was a mistake. They had nothing in common. He forced himself to eat another couple of oil-drenched curly fries just for something to do.

“Hey,” Castor said, leaning over his brother to talk to him. “How do you do that flippy thing?”

“That... flippy thing?”

“Yeah. Where you, like, flip over in midair? You nearly cleaned Fortio's clock with it the other week.”

“Oh... The aerial cartwheel?” He explained the technique as well as he could. “It's a matter of practise.”

“Yeah, for you it is,” Gladio said. “When I tried all I did was kick myself in the face. Twice.”

“That's cause you're a behemoth, Gladio,” Castor said. “Can you show me, Iggy? Next time we're paired up together?”

“I'd be happy to.”

Pollux also leaned toward him. “How about that thing where you kicked yourself off the ground?”

The kickup. He explained that too. And promised another demonstration. And another technique. And another. “I could show you outside of training?” he suggested. It was a horrible idea, really. He didn't have the time. But these two at least seemed willing to get to know him.

“Yeah, why not?” Castor said.

Gladio slung his massive arms around all three of their shoulders. “There's a gym at home,” he said. “You guys can meet up there.”

###

Castor and Pollux were good students. Certainly much better than Gladio who, though he tried, simply wasn't flexible enough for this fighting style. They were also infinitely more enthusiastic about learning than Noct was. Castor whooped and clapped as Pollux successfully transitioned from a forward roll into a kickup. Gladio's attempt was more of a transition from a forward roll into splaying on his front.

“Gladio, perhaps you'd be more suited to--”

Gladio jumped to his feet. He was certainly strong enough to master the kickup at least and Ignis wondered if he might be hiding his light under a bushel because of the presence of the twins. “Relax, Iggy. I don't need to do all the twisty stuff. You wanna see what I've been perfecting?”

“I'll admit to being curious.”

Gladio picked Castor up and threw him at Ignis. Neither of them had been expecting it, so Ignis hit the mat heavily with Castor landing on top of him. Besides training with Gladio and some cuddling with Noct when they were children, no one had ever been this close to him. The blush was back, determined to annex his entire face. And Castor looked equally dumbstruck, though he recovered more quickly.

“Gladio!” he said, shoving himself off Ignis. “What the hell?”

“What? That's the only way you'll ever get a dude on his back.” That devolved into a scuffle very quickly.

Since the floor was not apparently going to have mercy and swallow him up, Ignis got to his feet.

“Hey,” Pollux said, clapping Ignis on the shoulder. His hand lingered. “Thanks for doing this. Anything I can do to make it up to you? I know you must be hella busy with more important stuff.”

“That's quite all right.” Pollux's hand was still on his shoulder. Ignis may never stop blushing.

“Pollux!” Gladio boomed, as subtle as a foghorn. He currently had Castor in a head lock, scrubbing the top of his head with his knuckles. “Stop flirting with Iggy!”

_Flirting?!_

“Geez, relax Gladio. I was only saying thanks.”

“Say thanks with your mouth, not your hands.”

“Hey, I'd love to thank him with my mouth.”

Oh. Ignis rather wished that innuendo had gone over his head. He was starting to feel a little hot under the collar.

“I ought to go,” Ignis said, hurriedly. “There's a meeting I must attend.”

###

While the locker room was friendlier now with the company of Gladio and the twins, changing was still something Ignis would prefer to do alone. So he arrived early enough that it would be practically empty. Strange, soft sounds drifted through the empty room. Thuds and a small, distinctly human groan. Ignis followed them to their source at the bathroom stalls. 

He found a group of about five glaives huddled over something – someone – on the floor. Their legs all working as they kicked, drawing more groans.

“What on earth is going on here?” Ignis said, fighting to maintain his composure.

One of the glaives turned. “Shit! It's Scientia.” And a couple of them rushed past him, without him quite getting a look at their faces. He could have stopped them but their departure revealed that it was Pollux on the floor. Pollux, with his face swollen and one hand curled up, the fingers obviously broken. Chasing them would leave him alone in this state.

The remaining glaives faced him. Three of them. One of them was Albus. Albus, who had made that vile comment to him about being the king's bedwarmer. Albus, who had made that degrading bet about him and whose nose Gladio had bust for it.

“What do you think you're doing?” Ignis said, cold fury swallowing him as Pollux weakly struggled, unable to get up from the floor.

“None of your fucking business, Scientia,” Albus said. “Walk away and I won't have to rearrange your pretty little face.”

“Tell Cor what you've done here and I won't have to humiliate you.”

Albus laughed. Hugely overconfident with two other glaives on his side. He threw a punch at Ignis, who ducked it and landed a strong jab of his own in the centre of Albus' chest, winding him. The 'twisty stuff' as Gladio had called it wasn't solely used for evasion. It also let him move swiftly inside an attacker's guard. He dispatched the two other glaives easily, sending them fleeing to avoid broken bones. Albus was stronger and faster but years of training with Gladio had given Ignis every motivation not to get hit by that monstrous strength. He couldn't land a single blow.

Albus tried to grab him in both hands, pin him with his bigger and stronger body. Ignis spun and kicked him right in the bridge of his nose. He reeled back, blood flying from both nostrils.

“You little bitch!” he screamed, voice thick with the blood pouring down the back of his throat. It seemed to dawn on him that he was alone. “Fuck. You're gonna regret that.” He too scurried away.

Ignis rushed to Pollux's side. He was awake, at least, looking at Ignis through foggy eyes. Ignis pulled a potion from Noct's arsenal and cracked it open over him. His bruises faded somewhat and his hand twisted back into a more healthy shape. “Fuck, Iggy,” he said, not moving from face down on the floor. “You shouldn't have done that.”

“We must tell Cor about this.”

“NO! No. Don't tell Cor.” Pollux pushed himself up, moving gingerly enough that Ignis suspected broken ribs. “It's fine, right? Talk shit, get hit. No big deal.”

That was considerably more than getting hit. “There are procedures in place--”

Pollux gripped his shoulders tight enough to pinch. “No. Listen. Don't tell Cor. Don't tell anybody. You'll just make everything worse.”

“Pollux, you're--”

“You're not listening! Promise me. Promise me you won't run off and tell on them. Promise me right now.”

The edge of hysteria in his voice silenced all the protests Ignis wanted to make. Surely telling Cor was the best option if things had gotten this severe. But he could monitor the situation, he supposed. Go to Cor only if he couldn't find a way to deal with it himself. Albus and his lackies had proven themselves no match for him. He'd simply ensure that they never had the opportunity to hurt Pollux again. “Understood, Pollux. I promise.” He offered his shoulder, helping Pollux to his feet. “But I'll brook no argument on taking you to the infirmary.”

“Yeah...” Pollux sagged against him. “Thanks, Iggy.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Gladnis smut in this chapter.

Ignis failed to see how telling Cor would make the situation worse but since Pollux was so convinced of it, he hadn't. He wished he had more information to work with. Why had they attacked Pollux in the first place? He replayed everything he'd heard in his mind several times but it told him nothing. _Talk shit, get hit_ , Pollux had said. But what had he actually said that had provoked that reaction?

“Something on your mind, Iggy?” Gladio asked.

Ignis realised he had been frozen, tapping the pen he was using to mark Noct's practise test papers against the side of his face. Gladio was laying on the couch in Ignis' office, holding a book open with his fingers. Ignis snapped his attention back to his work and then to Gladio when he realised he was still expecting an answer. “Do you get along well with the glaives?”

“Most of 'em. Some people just don't click. Why?”

“You do seem rather popular with them.”

Gladio grinned at him. “You'll get there. Most of 'em have a chip on their shoulder about us being in the royal retinue. Once they see how much work you put in for it, they'll warm up.”

“So things have always been fine during your training? No run-ins with any of them?”

“Run-ins?” Gladio sat up so suddenly he dropped his book on the floor. “Someone bothering you?”

Of course, Gladio was too sharp to miss the implications of that. “Nothing of the sort. I was just curious about your journey to becoming the most popular man in the kingdom.”

“That so? A couple of them tried to pick fights when I started training but I shut it down. If they weren't afraid I could hit them hard enough, they were pretty damn convinced my dad would.”

That too should have been obvious. Gladio had been a giant since they were twelve-years-old and the connection to the Amicitia household was a deterrent in and of itself. “No shaving cream in your locker?”

“Nah. Other stuff, though. You've just gotta laugh off the pranks.”

“I recall trying to do that and a certain person shielding me from it.”

Gladio only gave him a grin. “And I stand by it. Just be grateful you're too much of a wild coeurl for them to flush your head down the crapper.”

 ###

Ignis' birthday had been a quiet affair spent only with Gladio, Noct, and Noct's friend Prompto. Gladio's apparently had to involve the entire kingsglaive and half the palace's staff. Plus a very sulky Noct who had been very firmly told that even if his presence would not pose a major security risk, he was not old enough to drink. He'd been surly and combative throughout the time Gladio had put aside to spend with him because of it.

To make the entire night bearable, Ignis had planned to spend the time with Pollux and Castor but neither of them had came. Ignis couldn't get Gladio's attention either among the people clamouring to wish him happy birthday and buy him drinks.

But he had a backup plan. He'd stay for one drink for politeness' sake and then excuse himself. 

“Hey,” one of the glaives said, placing his hand on the small of Ignis' back. His boozy breath washed over Ignis' face. “You're eighteen now, right?”

The dull lighting of the pub hid his blush at least. “Yes, and I'm not interested.”

The glaive chuckled but removed his hand. He disappeared into the throng around Gladio. Ignis took a moment to compose himself and then weaved his way through the crowd at the bar. One drink for him. One drink for Gladio. Then he could leave. Unfortunately, the news of him turning eighteen seemed to have spread. Several of the glaives – men and women – approached him on his way back to the quiet table he was trying to commandeer. They took his refusals with good grace at least. Gladio had said that they had frequent liaisons with each other. He glanced at Gladio, now with a ring of glaives encouraging him to _chug! Chug! Chug!_ Perhaps Ignis would slip away and make his excuses tomorrow.

“Hey gorgeous!

For goodness' sake. Couldn't they grasp that he wasn't interested? He turned and realised his recognised this glaive. One of Albus' lackies who'd ran away when he fought back. “No hard feelings then?”

“I've got plenty of hard feelings for you, babe.”

“The feeling isn't mutual, I assure you.”

He only laughed. “You need to loosen up. You never even thought about how a cock would feel?”

Ignis thought guiltily of the toy buried in his sock drawer. The one he'd bought in considerable secrecy and under a false name. “No.”

“Whatever. Never seen anyone so thirsty for dick since the last time I saw Castor staring at Gladio.”

Castor and Gladio? Why hadn't he noticed that? “I'm not interested,” he tried. It had worked on the rest of the glaives.

The man lingered like the burnt remains of Noct's latest cooking attempts. “Must be hard to settle for a commoner if you're around the king and prince all the time.”

And much like one of Noct's cooking attempts, he left an unpleasant taste in one's mouth. “My lack of interest has nothing to do with your social status.”

“I saw him once, you know.”

“Who?”

“The prince. He musta been about fifteen. Just kinda walking with the king. Don't think I was meant to see him cause Gladio's dad blocked my view soon as he saw me. But I saw enough. Real cute. I bet he's a virgin too.”

Years of training had taught Ignis to keep a straight face but his heart was in his throat. “I advise you not to say anything further.”

“Would be a real achievement, huh? Being the first one ever to fuck the crown prince?”

It was as if he was possessed. One moment he was containing himself and in the next he had this cretin, this animal under him squealing and begging him not to break his other arm.

“Iggy. Hey, hey Iggy.”

Gladio's voice seemed to come from very far away. “Yes?”

“This looks pretty bad, Iggy. Not gonna lie.”

Yes, how would it look if he was recognised? A member of the royal retinue assaulting a low ranking glaive in public? Like a scandal waiting to happen. Ignis released the glaive with some reluctance.

“Broke my fucking arm!” he said. “Fucking psycho.”

“Yeah and I bet you were just minding your own business,” said Gladio. “Get the fuck outta here.” And he did, without any dubious remarks about Noct this time. “You okay, Iggy?”

“Perfectly well. I ought to head off. Enjoy the rest of your celebration.”

“I'll walk you back.”

“Really, there's no need to interrupt your birthday.”

“Iggy. I'm walking you home. I won't take no for an answer.”

Very well. They'd barely walked for half an hour before Gladio stopped again, resting a hand on Ignis' elbow. “Hey. What's going on? And don't tell me it's nothing cause no one – and especially not you – gets that worked up over nothing.”

“I'm perfectly capable of handling it on my own.”

“All right. You don't wanna tell me. But you can. You know that, right? If something's bothering you, it doesn't have to bother you on your own.”

“I do know that, Gladio. Thank you.”

“Was pretty hot, though, how you just decked him. He didn't see it coming, that's for sure.”

“Please. It was hardly the way a royal advisor should comport himself.” Wait. Hot? Did Gladio say hot? He'd said it before too. Recently. _They think you're hot. Cause you are._ Ignis' entire world tilted on its axis. He'd never considered... Gladio never talked about it and Ignis was hardly going to ask but it was clear that Gladio had been with many, many women and he wasn't going to be a fool. No matter how wonderful Gladio was. No matter how bright and soft Gladio's eyes were, streetlights twinkling in their darkness. No matter how great the temptation was to imagine the press of those Astral-like muscles or the feel of the soft stubble on his neck. “Hot?” he repeated, stupidly.

“Iggy, you're-- How can be this smart and this clueless?”

Clueless. Yes, that was the word. “You like men?”

Gladio chuckled but it was strained. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Thought that was kinda obvious.”

It wasn't. It hadn't been. The glaives were open about these kinds of things but it was different in the palace. There were lines of succession to think of, duty and propriety. How many times had he seen Gladio with men and assumed what he was seeing was friendship when it was something else?

“I'm--”

Whatever sentence Ignis had been forming vanished as Gladio crowded him into the wall and kissed him. It was everything he'd imagined in the small hours of the mornings. The slight rasp of Gladio's stubble, strong hands gripping his hips, Gladio's hot mouth taking his. Ignis wished he was half as skilful but he was at least eager. He clutched Gladio's tank top, trying to mimic the motions of Gladio's lips and tongue while he stood on his tiptoes trying to get as much access as possible.

“That really your first kiss?” Gladio asked when they parted.

Ignis nodded, not quite trusting his voice. But he wanted more. So much more. His head flopped back against the brickwork as Gladio kissed the side of his neck.

“You always were a quick learner.”

Ignis tilted his head up, offering more of his neck to Gladio's sucks and nips. He twisted his fingers in the back of Gladio's top, pulling him even closer. His groin twinged, cock thickening in his glaive-issued sweatpants. Gladio slid against him in his matching pair. They left very little to the imagination in this state. Ignis rubbed against the hot, hard, _huge_ length he found there.

“Fuck, Iggy.” Gladio kissed him again, Ignis' hips bucking helplessly against him.

“Wait. Wait!” Ignis pulled away. “I want--” He swallowed, mouth dry and lips tingling. There was so much. So much he could never vocalise outside of his naughtiest fantasies. But Gladio was safe. This wouldn't become just another bawdy story for the glaives to leer over. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

Gladio groaned. “Fuck. Seriously?”

“I could not be more serious.”

Gladio grabbed his wrist and tugged him into an empty sidestreet. “Hold up,” Gladio said, as Ignis eagerly dropped to his knees. “We don't have to go this fast. You've never, uh... It's kinda ambitious, you know?”

“I've practised.”

“Practised?”

“With-- with a toy.” But he was sure unyielding silicone couldn't compare to Gladio's warm skin.

“Fuck, Iggy. That's hot.”

Ignis tugged Gladio's sweatpants down. His erection sprang free, just as huge as Ignis had hoped. He moaned as he sucked the tip into his mouth, caught somewhere between loving the taste and being absolutely mortified at his shamelessness. 

Gladio petted and smoothed his hair. “If you need to stop...” he said, despite the huskiness of his voice and the stutter of his hips.

Ironic that Gladio should treat him like a delicate flower now after all the times they'd beaten each other into the training room floor. He yanked Gladio's hips forward, taking his cock deeper.

“Fuck-- Iggy-- You're so-- So sexy--” He had both hands braced on the wall over Ignis' head. He shook with the effort of keeping himself still.

Ignis allowed his cock to slip free of his mouth. Gladio's hips lurched forward, the head of his cock bumping against his lips until he gathered his senses again. 

“Gladio. You needn't restrain yourself with me.”

Gladio lifted Ignis' chin with two fingers to look into his eyes. “Kinda do if I wanna last more than ten seconds.”

It was probably just flattery but it made Ignis' face flush all the same. “I want to taste you. As soon as possible.”

Gladio groaned again. “You sure?”

“For goodness sake, Gladio!”

Gladio slammed his cock all the way to the back of Ignis' throat and he swallowed greedily. His throat had spasmed and burned around the girth of the toy at first and he'd liked it. Liked the way drool leaked from the corner of his his mouth. Liked being stuffed and used while he guiltily imaged the king or Cor Leonus while stroking himself into a frenzy. But it hadn't captured the real experience of Gladio's guttural moans resounding in his ears. The twitches and pulses of his cock as intimate as his own heartbeat. His own cock throbbing in his sweatpants.

Gladio drew back suddenly and then he was coming in a hot splash across Ignis' face. That was-- Ignis blinked, come dripping over one lens of his glasses and down across his cheek. He would have liked to have swallowed it. Just to try it. He sucked the tip of Gladio's cock back into his mouth instead, savouring every last moment as Gladio squirmed and moaned.

“ _Fuck._ All right,” Gladio said. “Up we go.”

He picked Ignis up effortlessly and draped his legs over his shoulders. “Gladio! What are you doing?”

Oh. _Oh._ Gladio swallowed Ignis' entire length in one gulp. For a moment he was drowning in tightness and heat, feet flexing wildly. He'd already been so turned on he wanted to scream but this was far too much. He positively exploded into Gladio's mouth, the sensation wringing noises out of him he'd never thought he could make. And Gladio swallowed every last drop, then lapped at him with his tongue until he wriggled with oversensitivity.

Once he'd caught his breath, Gladio lowered him to the ground. “Can't believe that was your first time. D'you have to be a prodigy at everything?”

Ignis could only pant in response. The remaining rawness in his throat, the lingering taste of Gladio, and the aftershocks of his own orgasm had addled him. He was sure this would feature heavily in his fantasies from now on.

Gladio laughed fondly. He took a handkerchief from goodness-knows-where and carefully wiped Ignis' face with it. “If the guys ever found out about this they'd be so fucking jealous. Best blow job I ever had.”

Ah. That ruined the afterglow. “They won't find out. Correct?”

The relaxed, sated expression drained from Gladio's face. “Course, Iggy. I didn't mean it like that. I'm not gonna-- I won't brag about it or anything. I'm not an asshole.” He wiped the last trace of himself from Ignis' chin. “That was okay, right? Things aren't gonna be weird between us?”

“Why would they be?”

Gladio's face, usually as familiar as his own, shuttered. “Yeah. Right. Let's get you home.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Somebody got laid!”

That was Castor, loud enough for the whole Citadel to hear, slapping Gladio on the back. Ignis tensed behind his locker door. Thankfully, he gathered his senses before any of the glaives noticed. Besides, Castor's cheerfulness sounded awfully forced and there was still no sign of Pollux. Ignis continued the motions of getting changed, concentrating on the conversation between him and Gladio.

“Will you keep it down?” Gladio said.

“You shy all of a sudden? Usually you can't wait to--”

“Can it!” Gladio was staring at Ignis when he turned his head. Not exactly subtle but at least it allowed him to catch Ignis' narrowed eyes. Perhaps he needed to have another word with Gladio about decorum befitting a member of the royal retinue. For goodness sake, he hadn't even had to have a discussion of this nature with Noct and not just because he was currently more concerned with video games than girls.

Ignis roughly shed the rest of his clothing, partly shielded by his locker door. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, sensing a gaze that very much wasn't Gladio's. Several gazes, it turned out. Not at all subtly leering over him in his boxer-briefs. Apparently the scene in the bar had not discouraged them. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Do you mind?” Ignis snapped at the three glaives, grabbing his sweatpants and trying to angle his body to make the most of the inadequate coverage of the locker door.

“Not at all, sweetheart.”

 _Sweetheart_? Honestly. Did they know somehow about the tryst with Gladio? Castor had been able to tell something had happened. His skin warmed with the sense memory of Gladio's rough fingers in his hair, the fullness of his cock in his throat. Ignis had been unable to sleep these past few nights until he'd stroked himself, panting under the sheets as he replayed the whole thing in his mind.

The glaives were still rapt on him as he slid the sweatpants over his hips and far too close for it to be anything other than deliberate. And then they were obscured by the human mountain that was Gladio, clad only in his boxers and righteous fury. “Enjoying the view?”

One of them eye-balled Gladio's own gods-like physique. “Hell yeah!”

“Well don't! Mind your own business... businesses and stop being such fucking perves!”

“Geez, fine. Calm your tits, Amicitia. Ain't like I've never caught you sneaking a peek.”

Gladio puffed up like a chickatrice and deflated just as quickly when Ignis laid a gentle hand on his elbow. “Gladio. That's enough.”

“All right, Iggy.” 

Gladio faced him. His eyes raked briefly up and down Ignis' body. It had the opposite effect of the uninvited gazes. A magnetic pull that almost forced Ignis to lean against him. Ignis wheeled around to face his open locker, trying to ignore the uncomfortable swell in his briefs. He hadn't had so little control over his body since the beginning of puberty. For an utterly insane moment, he considered skipping training altogether and sneaking somewhere private with Gladio.

Reality asserted itself in the form of Cor roaring at them all to get started.

###

It soon became apparent that Ignis was not the only one who was preoccupied during training. Castor was uncharacteristically sloppy, listing and stumbling every time he made a movement. Ignis had to pull every blow in order to avoid seriously injuring him. Like fighting an opponent who had been hit with confusion. Halfway through the session, Castor simply stopped.

“Castor?” Ignis abandoned his training sword. Castor seemed to just barely be upright. Remaining standing by will alone. “What's the matter?”

“Huh?”

“Castor, are you--?”

Castor collapsed onto the mat. Cor was upon them before Ignis could properly process the situation, checking Castor's pulse. “Scientia. Take him to the infirmary.”

###

The doctor assured Ignis it was simply a case of dehydration and exhaustion, combined with a little too much to drink. She had at least a dozen of these cases with every batch of new recruits. The glaives were inclined to try and out-drink each other as if that proved who was toughest.

Ignis thanked her, although it wasn't as reassuring as she believed. Castor hadn't joined the glaives on any of their excursions since the incident with Pollux. If he had been drinking, it had been alone.

###

When Ignis returned to the training hall, he was paired with one of the older glaives. He was dark skinned, with a curling grey moustache and a twinkle in his brown eyes that Ignis found helplessly attractive. Perhaps it was how similar in shade they were to Gladio's. Or how huge he was. Like Gladio. Ignis summoned the name Felix from the vaults of his memory.

“Young Castor all right?” he asked with a touch of an accent Ignis couldn't quite identify.

“He will be after some rest.”

Felix's age belied a speed and strength that actually challenged Ignis. So much so that he got Ignis onto the mat -– the first glaive to manage it yet -– heavy body pinning him so well even Ignis' flexibility couldn't get him un-pinned. Ignis grappled with him on the floor, trying to hook his legs in a position that would give him the leverage to escape.

Felix's breath, heavy with exertion, ghosted over the side of Ignis' neck. The intimacy of this position dawned on him. On his back. His legs and arms wrapped around Felix, both scrambling for purchase. A blush rose over his face like the tide. And... another thing... rose as well. Ignis made a small, strained noise. Astrals. Perhaps Felix hadn't felt it?

But the sudden easing of his weight from atop Ignis told him that he had. He only chuckled and patted Ignis on the cheek. As if he'd done something adorable rather than _mortifyingly embarrassing_. 

“I'm so sorry,” Ignis said, drawing his knees up to hide his condition.

“Don't worry about it. I was young once too, you know.”

###

Ignis cleared a space in his schedule to visit Castor in the infirmary. It was evening by the time he managed it and he already had visitors in the form of Gladio and Pollux. The latter moved gingerly, one side of his face the yellow-green of fading bruises. Castor was lying in bed with an IV in his arm and at least looked more lively than he had earlier.

They all went abruptly silent when they saw Ignis.

“How are you feeling, Castor?” Ignis asked, sliding between Gladio and Pollux's chairs.

“Fine,” Castor said. “Better. Just overdid it last night.”

“And you, Pollux?”

“Good! Yeah, good. Ready to get back to fighting the Niffs.”

But the pall of whatever had them looking so serious before his arrival remained. They made stilted conversation, steering Ignis away from the matter of what had happened to get the twins in this state whenever he tried to bring it up. It was almost a relief to gather up his things and leave.

“Wait up,” Gladio said, catching up to him in the hall.

There was no point in asking Gladio what he knew. He was loyal to a fault. It was simultaneously one of his best and one of his most frustrating qualities. “Yes?”

“Still busy?”

Ignis nodded. He was rarely anything else. “I've a report to finish and I'd like to remind myself of this quarter's trade agreements before-- Are you at all interested in any of this?”

“Yeah?” Gladio said, trying to pretend his eyes hadn't been glazing over. “So just back to your office then? Or are you heading home? I'll walk you over.”

“There's really no need.”

“Just try and stop me.”

They strolled through the palace at a comfortable pace. Gladio probably thought he was being subtle but Ignis noticed him assessing every stranger who crossed their paths. Standing just far enough apart that Ignis would have room to draw his daggers. He was being shielded and Ignis didn't know if that was just an unconscious habit, or if Gladio had reason to believe he might be in danger.

“So,” Gladio said, his every syllable reeking of forced casualness. “You and Felix looked pretty cosy this morning?”

Cosy? Ignis blushed, remembering wriggling against Felix's strong body. That combined with Gladio's proximity almost had him in the same state. “It was a grapple, Gladio. I've seen you do worse to Noct and I'm certain he derives as much enjoyment from that as a plate full of mushy peas.”

“Yeah, right. If Noct enjoyed that as much as you did I'd actually get him to turn up for training on time. You've gotta be more careful than that, Iggy.”

“Than what?”

“Don't play dumb. I'm not the only one who saw you humping Felix's leg.”

 _Humping Felix's leg._ “I did nothing of the sort!”

“Right. You're just lucky he's a decent guy. A come-on like that from someone like you--”

“If I may interject a dose of reality into this elaborate fantasy you've concocted. The only thing that happened in training this morning was an embarrassing accident. And even if I were getting cosy with Felix as you so eloquently put it, then that would be none of your business.”

“None of my business? Are you fucking serious?”

“Do I seem anything other than serious?”

A man Gladio's size really should not be able to look so pitiful but he managed it. Eyes shining a bit too brightly, even as he covered it with a sneer. “You're my friend, Iggy. Course I'm gonna notice if half the glaive want in your pants.”

“And what exactly is it that has you so concerned about people you assured me were 'good guys really' mere days ago?”

Gladio's silence went on for a beat too long. “Just, you know... You're not very experienced with this stuff and...” Gladio petered off, wilting under Ignis' stare. “They're not all great guys. Some of them are real shits.”

“I'm more than capable of looking after myself.”

“I know! I do. Seriously. I didn't mean to-- I just don't want you to have to deal with...”

“Other men?”

The sharp look Gladio gave him told him he'd guessed correctly. “Why would I give a fuck about that? We're friends, right? Nothing's changed?”

“Exactly,” Ignis said, through gritted teeth. He wasn't one of Gladio's swooning conquests and he certainly didn't need his protection.

###

 

Since neither Gladio nor the twins were going to tell him anything, and going to Cor was not an option, Ignis observed. The most likely suspect was the one Ignis had already caught assaulting Pollux. Perhaps Castor had confronted him for what he'd done to his brother and things had gone badly, although Castor did not seem to be physically hurt.

Albus was always surrounded by at least four of his lackies but the other glaives tended to avoid him. Probably his winning personality. When they moved, they walked in pecking order, Albus at the head of the group. In training, they tended to pair with each other.

Unfortunately, Albus noticed and of course chose the locker room to confront him.

“Quit your staring, Scientia,” he said, leaning over him, pinning him face-first against the lockers. Ignis could feel the stares on them. Notably Gladio's.

Ignis twisted around so he was facing him. Albus was so close they were practically pressed together. “Rather vain of you to assume I'm staring at you.”

That earned him a few hushed chuckles from the glaives. Albus jerked a hand up. Ignis braced to defend himself, only to have Albus' palm rest beside his head. “If you want a taste, all you have to do is ask.”

“I _don't_.”

“Shame.” He gave Gladio – who was practically vibrating with the urge to interfere – a smug look. “I hear your backstreet cock-sucking skills are legendary.” He slammed his other hand on the locker hard enough to knock Ignis' head into it, then rejoined his lackies. Ignis could barely hear their jeers over the roaring in his ears.

###

Did they all know? Were the smirks and leers from the glaives throughout training real or just paranoia? Ignis worked himself harder than usual. He was lathered in sweat by the end of it. He'd barely managed to snatch his clothing from the locker and retreat from the changing room when Gladio cornered him.

“I swear I didn't say anything!”

Ignis shushed him and dragged him into one of the empty office suites. “Then how did Albus of all people find out?”

“He probably doesn't know shit. Just trying to rile you up.”

No. That comment combined with the look at Gladio. He definitely knew. “He is neither perceptive nor intelligent enough to have simply guessed.”

“So you think _I_ told him?”

“Not him.” But Castor's words kept springing into his mind. _Usually you can't wait to--_ Hastily cut off by Gladio. And he'd seen how crudely the glaives talked about their conquests. The easy camaraderie Gladio had with them.

“Are you fucking with me? I didn't tell anyone anything about it.”

“Perhaps you didn't intend to but--”

“No. Will you fucking listen to yourself? I didn't let anything slip. So far as any of them know, I walked you home and headed straight back to the bar. They were all over me wanting details and I put them right – well, not right. I told them nothing happened.”

“Congratulations for acting more decently with me than any of your other conquests.”

“Look, we weren't exactly in private. Someone probably saw us.”

Was that supposed to be reassuring? Someone saw them? If Gladio was telling the truth – and Ignis was grudgingly beginning to believe him – then that was by far the most likely explanation. Someone had seen them. Seen him practically begging to fellate Gladio. Seen Gladio fucking his throat.

“It's not a big deal,” Gladio said.

“Not a big deal?! Perhaps to you it isn't.”

“It's just sex. You're allowed to have some fun between pre-chewing Noct's meals and wiping the High Council's asses.”

“No, you are allowed to act however you please. I need to comport myself with dignity befitting a representative of the crown.”

Gladio took a step back. “Wow. My dick's not gonna ruin your life, Iggy. The High Council ain't so old they can't get it up and neither are the pen-pushers you kowtow to. Else Ambassador fucking Eldridge wouldn't be so keen to listen to your thoughts on irrigation.”

Ignis coloured, conjuring up the image of an older man who he'd always thought was simply friendly. “Not everything is about sex, Gladio.”

“Ain't that the entire reason we're here?”

That stumped Ignis. Why were they here? The embarrassment and anger still roiled inside him but he couldn't summon a retort. Outrageous that Gladio could silence him when an entire board of trained diplomats hadn't managed it.

“Look,” Gladio said, in a more reasonable tone of voice than he'd employed earlier. “It's not gonna be a scandal or anything. No one important listens to the glaives. Worst case scenario? Cor hears about it. He's hardly gonna go gossiping to the king or whatever.”

“The glaives knowing is bad enough.”

“You're worried about the glaives knowing about a damned blow job? They've done stuff you don't even know about yet. Albus is just an asshole.”

“Their leering is bad enough as it is!"

“Hey...” Gladio tried to touch Ignis shoulder but retracted his hand when Ignis jerked away, frowning. “I won't let anyone do anything to you.”

“I told you that I don't need your protection.”

“Well, you've got it anyway! Gods damn it, Iggy. Which is it? You want me to keep the glaives off your back or do you wanna fend for yourself? You wanna end up like Castor and Pollux, is that it?”

“I have no idea what happened to Castor and Pollux. Why don't you enlighten me?”

Gladio looked like an overlarge dog who'd been caught sitting on the furniture. “Shit.”

“What's going on, Gladio?”

“Nothing! Nothing you need to know about, all right?”

“Since I am the one who dragged both of them to the infirmary, I believe I do have a right to know what's happening to my friends.”

“They're not your friends.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shit. I didn't mean it like that. But you barely know each other. You definitely don't know them well enough to get in on their personal business like that. And pout at me all you like, I ain't gonna tell you.”

He was not pouting. “Fine! You keep your secrets and I'll fend for myself as you put it.”

“Iggy, that's--”

“How many times must I tell you that your protection is not necessary? You are not my shield and I do not belong to you, so you needn't mark your territory like an incontinent dog every time someone so much as glances in my direction.”

“Fine! If that's what you think of me, fine. Enjoy being the friendless stuck-up loser everyone thought you were.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! I've actually had this and another chapter in my notebook for a while but haven't had a chance to type it up yet. At the moment I'm laid up with pulled muscles in my lower back so I might as well get it done, eh?


	5. Chapter 5

With no time to come down from the discussion with Gladio, Ignis rushed to his apartment. Discussion. Ha! The flaming row he'd had with Gladio. The hot spray of the shower did little to relax him. Rather it gave him time to replay every sentence over and over in his mind, all of the snappy retorts he should have made coming to him now when they'd failed him in the heat of the moment. He'd barely finished towelling off his hair when his phone beeped with the reminder that he needed to be in conference room B in five minutes.

By the time he entered the room he was jittery with unspent adrenaline, primed for an argument he wasn't going to get. It made the three hour discussion regarding the loss of Duscaen farmland particularly torturous. Made worse by the beginnings of a tension headache throbbing in the back of his skull. Ignis still ensured he made pertinent remarks and took extensive notes, but it was Gladio that had the bulk of his attention.

Once the meeting had finally ended, one of the ambassadors halted him with a soft “Ignis.”

“Ah. May I help you?” Of all the people in the world, it just had to be Ambassador Eldridge. The very Ambassador Eldridge that Gladio had made those less than salubrious comments about.

“I thought you'd be interested to know that I implemented a few of your suggestions.” He regaled Ignis with the results. At great length. To the point that Ignis was sure he now knew the topiary of Duscae as well as he knew his own apartment. Normally he'd be thrilled to hear that one of the diplomats had thought highly enough of his suggestions to actually implement them, but right now all he wanted was a few minutes of silence in which to sneak a few painkillers. “Perhaps we could continue the discussion in my quarters?”

Ignis caught himself just before he agreed, having not fully processed the words. He had to learn how to keep his blushes under control. He could not continue to face Insomnia's bureaucracy with such an obvious tell. How had it gotten to this point? Their conversations had been restricted to drainage, soil pH levels, and the issue of daemons encroaching onto previously fertile lands. Ignis had been courteous because he was obligated to be and because Eldridge was one of the more pleasant figures to deal with. Nowhere, not at any point, had he given the impression that he was interested in anything other than practical matters.

He hated that Gladio was right.

“I'm afraid I must attend to the prince,” he said, somehow managing to sound far less flustered than he felt.

“This evening then? I've a rather lovely aged Port we could share now you're of age. It's a very rare vintage but it'd be a pleasure to break into it with someone able to appreciate the finer things.”

“I'm to sit in on a high council meeting until eleven and then must be up at four a.m.”

“My, you are a busy boy. Lunch then? Surely even someone as integral as yourself must eat.”

“Yes,” Ignis said, weakly, unable to summon an excuse on the spot. Noct. He had Noct's lunch to prepare. But the damage was done. He could hardly retract it now.

Eldridge beamed. “Wonderful. I'll get us a reservation at Le Grande Monde and see you there at lunchtime. Looking forward to your company.”

###

The high council meeting had overran by two hours. Ignis still had to get up at four a.m. He tried to summon the energy he'd need for training while he changed. He'd only just unbuttoned his dress shirt when a group of glaives descended on him.

“You're kinkier than you seem, huh Scientia?” one of them said.

Ignis clung to his shirt, keeping it closed over his bare chest. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Yeah? You're the only one then. Heard you deep-throated Gladio in the middle of the street.”

Ignis cringed at their crudeness, pulling the shirt tighter around himself. “What?” he said, faintly.

“No way!” One of the others said, as if Ignis wasn't even there. “Gladio's hung like a behemoth.”

“He's not that big.”

“Bigger than you!”

That devolved into a minor scuffle between the glaives, but Ignis wasn't free of their attention yet. “Yeah,” one of the others said. “Fortio saw you two at it. Lucky bastard. Hey, I've gotta free hour after work if you wanna go again.”

“And what's he gonna do with the other fifty-nine minutes?”

“Fuck off. You'd come in your pants before you even got it out if he let you near him.”

“You wanna bet? Hey, Scientia, who do you think is hotter? Me or him?”

Oh, so now he was involved, was he? “I'm not interested in any of you.”

They chuckled, continued to jostle and play-punch each other. “Wow. Harsh. All right, Scientia. Point taken. It's true, though. Right? What was it like taking Gladio? Did he choke you?”

“That's none of your business.” It didn't deter them at all. And he didn't think he could bear being the subject of this kind of scrutiny any longer, thoroughly blushing under their questioning and their lingering gazes on every inch of his bare skin.

“Hey now, don't be shy. If Gladio's not gonna give us the deets, someone has to.”

Ignis only had a moment to be mollified that Gladio had kept quiet.

“Did you swallow?”

Hadn't he just told them it was none of their business? “Leave me alone.”

Some of them did, some of them didn't. “Whoa now. Come on. Everyone thought you were some kinda megaprude and then you're sucking Gladio off in the street. Can't blame us for being curious, right?”

He could blame them and very much did. “I--”

“Not like I'm asking for a demonstration or anything. We just wanna know how Gladio got you on your knees.”

“Why?” Their closeness, the constant personal questions, were triggering his fight or flight reflex. He wanted to fight but couldn't justify yet another tussle with the glaives, not when it was only words.

“It'll help me picture it in my bunk tonight.”

“How dare you--” Ignis was choked by how appalled he was, barely able to get the words out through it.

The glaives just leered at him. “Better get changed, Scientia,” another of them said. “Don't want Cor to get mad.”

If they thought he was going to strip in front of them, they had another thing coming. He shoved past them and locked himself in one of the bathroom stalls to change.

###

Training itself wasn't any better. He endured constant commentary on every aspect of his appearance, his flexibility, speculation on his sexual prowess and solicitations for a repeat performance. All passed off as friendly banter, in a tone that wouldn't rouse Cor's suspicions. The glaive he was paired with – an older woman who thankfully seemed just as put out by her fellow glaive's behaviour – knocked him onto the mat several times, until she eventually snapped at him to get his head out of his ass and ignore it.

It was easier said than done but the fresh swell of comments about how he looked his back gave him more encouragement. What's more, he couldn't afford to look like a soft touch. He redoubled his efforts until he could block it all out and get back into his usual flow.

###

With that unpleasantness out of the way, it was time for yet more. Le Grande Monde was usually reserved for Insomnia's elite and Ignis had stepped foot in it only once, dining with a sulky twelve-year-old Noct and the king. His ears still tinged pink from hearing exactly what the glaive thought of him all morning, he wondered why Ambassador Eldridge would believe such a display of wealth would impress him.

He gave the reservation details and was led to a private booth. Eldridge was already there, the table already furnished with two bottles of wine.

“Ignis,” he said warmly, pouring him a glass of red which Ignis left untouched. “I do hope you don't mind but I took the liberty of ordering for you. The lobster thermador here is exquisite, and you simply must try it.”

If Ignis had wanted any part of this to begin with, he very much would mind but another thing being out of his hands hardly mattered at this point. Ignis plastered an agreeable expression onto his face and took his seat. He may not be able to be as blunt with Eldridge as he was with the glaives but he was sure he could outmanoeuvre him. He took the comprehensive report on Duscaen farming solutions he had sacrificed yet more of his precious sleep to write and dumped it on the table. It was quite the tome and landed with an impressive thud.

“Thank you for inviting me, Ambassador Eldridge. There are some finer points I'd like to discuss.” An hour of soil drainage and manure composition was sure to kill the libido of even the most amorous admirer and Ignis had fifty case studios in his arsenal. “I do believe that together we can come up with a solution that gives you the minimum input for the maximum yield.”

Eldridge took the report and flipped through it. “I can't fault you for your work ethic but why don't we put this aside for now?”

“Ambassador Eldridge--”

“Please call me Julian.”

“Julian. I don't believe keeping Insomnia and the surrounding regions from starvation is a matter than can be put aside.”

“Of course, of course, but I'll be enjoying his majesty's hospitality for another week at least.” The report disappeared into Eldridge's bag. “There'll be plenty of time to discuss this.” He indicated Ignis' untouched glass of wine. “Not to your taste?”

“It's not that. I need a clear head for the afternoon.”

“One glass won't hurt, surely?”

“Just between you and I, I have a low tolerance for alcohol.”

That mollified him. He summoned the waiter and tried to encourage Ignis to peruse the drinks menu. Ignis asked for a glass of water instead. He wished he still had the report and the distraction it provided in his hands.

“Busy morning?” Eldridge asked. “I always see you flitting around. It seems as though you rarely have the chance to relax like this.”

Ignis, whole body tensed as if he was preparing for a handspring, almost laughed. “It has been a while since I was able to sit down for lunch.” He was too practical to starve himself but the days he could actually join Noct for a home-cooked meal were ever rarer as his duties expanded. Wolfing down a packed lunch while hurrying to his next appointment had become the norm. With better company – Gladio, his traitorous subconscious insisted – this might even be nice.

The lobster thermador arrived after twenty minutes of useless smalltalk. As loath as he was to admit it after it had been ordered without his input, it was heavenly. It melted in his mouth with just the right ratio of sauce to not completely overpower it. He held each bite as long as he could, trying to detect each subtle flavour so he could add it to his own white wine sauce recipe. Noct adored fish and a sauce this delicious might even disguise a vegetable or two.

Eldridge chuckled fondly at him, bringing Ignis crashing back to reality. “I see you agree with my assessment of the lobster thermador.”

“It's exquisite.”

“As are you.”

Every single word in his vocabulary fled him. The glaives had made it abundantly clear what they'd do to him given half the chance. Why should his colleagues be any different? He wished he didn't blush so easily. It was an absurd reaction to an unwelcome advance.

Eldridge obviously took his silence for assent and placed a hand on Ignis' knee beneath the table. “Tell me, where did his majesty manage to find someone so lovely and so bright?”

The urge to kick out was overwhelming but he managed to claw back enough control to only slide his leg back. “Ambassador, this is--”

“Too public? My quarters are very private indeed.”

Gods, why would he think that was Ignis' objection? _Think. Think._ The best way to reject him without any animosity. There had to be one. He couldn't allow anything to interrupt the farming developments outside the wall. People would die. “I apologise if I've misled you in any way, Julian,” he said, in his most diplomatic voice. “But I have a partner.”

Eldridge's kindly face twisted into something that made Ignis want to flee. Just for a flash. So quickly he wasn't entirely sure he had seen it.

“Who?”

“I don't believe that's--”

“I asked you who?”

Only one name came to mind. “Gladio! Gladiolus Amicitia!”

“The Shield's son? That hulking brute? I didn't expect you to be so shallow.”

What on earth? “He is not a hulking brute.” Gladio was a lot of things. Infuriating, overprotective, too stubborn by far, but he was very far from a brute.

“A man like that can't challenge you. Can't be your equal intellectually. What do the two of you have in common besides a pretty face and an attachment to the prince?”

“Ambassador Eldridge. I don't believe this is a productive conversation. I am sorry that you were given the impression that I was available but I must insist you leave Gladio out of this.” Before it became more of a scene than it already was. How dare he. How _dare_ he. As much of a pain as Gladio could be he was far more than a handsome simpleton with only his looks going for him.

“I see you've made up your mind. Finish your meal, Ignis. I paid far to much for it to have it wasted.”

He had no choice but to comply. He raced to finish it, now hardly able to taste it with Eldridge's sulky presence souring every bite. “I have to ask,” Ignis said, when he'd left as much as he dared. He hated how tremulous his voice was. “The Duscaen developments--”

“Are you implying I'd let personal matters interfere with my work?”

There was little point in denying it. “I merely want to ensure--”

“The developments will continue as planned. You needn't worry your pretty little head about that.”

His... his pretty little head? Ignis had thought – naively – that Eldridge was impressed by his competence but had he only been going along to orchestrate this the entire time? Why had he thought one dinner would be enough to-- to what? Seduce him? Court him? Ignis had treated him like every other ambassador he encountered and certainly never crossed any lines of propriety. He sipped his water miserably, hoping it would ease the sudden lump in his throat.

“You're too old to sulk,” Eldridge said with no hint of self-awareness, stabbing into his own food.

What exactly was he supposed to do? Every second stuck here being glowered at was a further humiliation. In meetings usually he felt older than he was. An equal to the men and women in their seats of power. Now he felt like a scolded child.

“May I leave?” he asked, after an eternity of terse silence broken only by the scrape of Eldridge's knife and fork across his plate.

“I suppose so.”

Ignis left at as brisk a pace as he could manage while still maintaining his dignity.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get rough here, lads. Reiterating the warnings for sexual harassment, bullying, and hazing. There's also a transphobic insult in the text so please don't read if this is upsetting for you.

The glaives were as crass as ever. Ignis never escaped the locker room without being propositioned at least twice. They seemed to view his constant rebuffs as more of a challenge than a deterrent. But they were only words and surely he should be used to dealing with words by now. As for Gladio, they hadn't talked since their disagreement but Ignis often caught Gladio glowering at the glaives, quickly looking away when he realised he'd been seen.

It wasn't ideal but it was an equilibrium of sorts. Routine. He could manage it.

And then Abus decided to make his stand. “How come you never shower with us, Scientia?” He boomed it for the benefit of every glaive in the locker room. “You hiding a pussy under there?”

Vile. The man was vile. The state of Ignis' – or indeed anyone else's – genitals was none of his business. He ignored it. He was above this, as were most of the other glaives by the way they rolled their eyes and did their level best to pretend Albus didn't exist.

But Albus was intent on making a scene. He leaned deep into Ignis' personal space and actually sniffed him with his actual nose, burying his face in Ignis' hair. “You must be showering somewhere.”

Ignis shoved him. It was pure reflex, done without the input of his higher function. Albus stumbled back a step but righted himself.

“Do not touch me,” Ignis said and he hoped all the glaives were watching and listening. They could say whatever they wished but he could not tolerate one step further.

“You think you're better than us?”

“Better than you, certainly.”

That earned him a few muffled sniggers from the glaives. Albus had few friends. Just what did he hope to achieve from this?

“Better than all of us, right? Too good to shower here cause you've got your own comfy room in the palace, right?”

So that's what this was. Trying to stir up the resentment that had been present in his first few training sessions before the glaives all decided they'd prefer to try and get into his trousers. It might even have worked if someone other than Albus had tried it. “And why are you so keen to get me into the communal showers, Albus?”

“Don't be so full of yourself. You're gonna train like you're one of us and then you're gonna run off and have a shower all to yourself knowing you're never gonna get thrown outside the wall. What do you think's gonna happen if you get in the shower with us, anyway?”

“Nothing.” It was a lie, obviously, but it sounded sincere. They'd been talking about bedding him for days now. Leering at him. He was hardly going to expose his naked body to them. And quite apart from any of that, what if the sight of so many wet, naked men... affected him?

“Kid's just shy, Albus,” Felix said, from where he was lacing up his combat boots. “Settle down.”

“Yeah, right. He thinks we're gonna rape him. That's what you think of the kingsglaive, isn't it Scientia? A bunch of rapists. Good enough to die protecting you and your king so long as we do it out of your sight.”

“You've hardly restrained yourselves around me!” That was the wrong thing to say and he regretted it immediately. It sounded like he agreed and he didn't. He thought they were boorish and crude but he didn't think so little of them. Of their sacrifices. Most of them had left him well alone and he knew it wasn't all of them but the comments and the stares were so frequent. He'd given them no encouragement whatsoever and still, they pushed. Surely it was only rational that he should want to avoid them.

“No one's done anything to you.”

“One of you pinched my--! My... rear.” Someone snorted derisively. In the civilised spaces he was used to that would be a scandal. Sexual assault. But the glaives apparently didn't think much of it. “And the comments...”

“You joking, Scientia? You're pathetic. Your delicate virgin ass doesn't belong with us. But that's how you prefer it, right?”

###

After that, Ignis could hardly avoid the showers. He was lathered in sweat from the training session. Certainly in need of one. And showering here would save him time, and he had little enough of that as it was. Besides, the glaives did it every day and he'd never heard of any incidents.

His feet remained rooted to the floor in the little anteroom the glaives undressed in before stepping into the showers themselves. He folded his fresh set of clothes on the bench in front of him. Unfolded and re-folded them. He hung his towel on the hook provided.

It was irrational, he told himself. They'd only tease him and if not he could defend himself. It was only nudity. Why was he so bothered by it? All he had to do was take off his clothes and step into the steamy room filled with raucous laughter beyond.

He removed his shoes and socks. That was a start. Only a few items to go.

Felix paused beside him. _Oh dear_ , he was clad only in a towel. Ignis tried not to look at him but the image of his Appolo's belt peeking from the towel imprinted itself on his brain.

“You don't have to let Albus goad you,” he said, in a gentle way that reminded Ignis very much of King Regis.

“He's right.”

“Is he now?”

“Not about... I don't think I'm better than the kingsglaive.” Albus and his lackies excepted. “One day you'll protect Noct-- Prince Noctis. I swear I appreciate that. But I have made it look that way.”

“Don't worry so much about what they think of you, kid. Think any of us would be here if we had our own shower to go to? Guarantee you the moment we finish our training the first thing most of us will do is buy our own place.”

All the more reason for Ignis to share. Out of solidarity. The conditions the trainees lived in... They were well-fed. They had somewhere to sleep. But it was basic, communal living. It was hardly fair that he had so many comforts while the men and women who'd be fighting on the front lines lived a relatively deprived life.

As if he couldn't get any more uncomfortable, Gladio strolled over to them _stark naked_. He grinned and winked at Felix and Felix smiled back, giving Gladio's body a leisurely once-over. It didn't seem unwelcome. In fact, Ignis would swear he was flexing.

Oh, to be that confident.

Gladio slung his arm around Felix's shoulders, their sides sliding together. If it were possible to die of an ab overdose Ignis would have expired right there and then. Gladio didn't even acknowledge Ignis' presence. Ignoring him. Very mature.

“You coming in or what?” Gladio leaned against Felix, their hard bodies pressing together in a way that should be considered an act of public indecency. Felix wrapped an arm around him in return, fingertips resting just under Gladio's ribs.

Their casual touching was setting Ignis imagination – and his face – on fire. That and the way the two of them towered over him. He was average height and still growing but the two of them were giants, made him feel scrawny like he'd been when he first started schooling, and he wondered if Gladio was doing that deliberately. 

Felix's armful of naked Gladio didn't quite distract him. “I'm trying to convince your friend here not to let Albus get in his head.”

“He's too smart for that. And he can look after himself. Right, Ignis?” Gladio squeezed the muscles ofFelix's shoulder and didn't bother to wait for Ignis' answer before he spoke again. “You gonna help me do my back?”

Gladio had all of Felix's attention now. And who could blame him? Gladio's back was a masterpiece, just like the rest of him. Made in Titan's image. The mere suggestion of Gladio and Felix being intimate threatened to make Ignis combust. And Gladio knew exactly what he was doing, judging by the sly glance he sent Ignis' way.

“Come on then,” Felix said. “You damned tease.”

He bustled Gladio into the showers, leaving Ignis alone. Was Ignis really going to let Gladio goad him like that? Apparently yes. He undressed, leaving his training clothes on the hook with his towel so they didn't contaminate his clean clothing. He was no peeping Tom so he kept his eyes firmly blinkered as he walked into the showers. He definitely was not tempted to see what Felix and Gladio might be up to.

The showers were more anonymous than he'd feared. True, there were no stalls but there was enough room between each shower head that they weren't shoulder to shoulder. All he had to do was get this over with as quickly as possible and his point would be made. He helped himself to shampoo and body wash from the dispenser, trying not to think of his collection of toiletries back home and their subtle, warm scent of Galahd spices. This bodywash smelled faintly antiseptic. The shampoo of nothing at all. He lathered himself up as efficiently as possible.

Even unseen, Gladio still managed to be distracting. Gladio's voice had such a low timbre Ignis could practically feel it in his bones even when Gladio was whispering.

“I've got an hour or two to spare,” Gladio said, cutting through the chatter and the laughter of the rest of the glaives.

“You've got twenty minutes,” Felix said, he was harder to pick up but now Ignis was concentrating. “Cor wants me for extra training.”

Twenty minutes of what? It was maddening not being able to see their body language, read their faces.

“Think you can get me off in twenty minutes?” Gladio said, removing all ambiguity.

“Twice.”

“Hurry it up then. Unless you wanna do it right here.”

“I don't like people staring at my ass as much as you do, Amicitia. Let's go.”

Ignis' shoulders bunched as they walked past him. They either didn't notice him or Gladio was still ignoring him. Thank goodness the hot shower gave Ignis an excuse to be as flushed as he was. _Unless you wanna do it right here._ In reality, he'd find it mortifying but the image of Gladio taking him right here, right in front of the glaives, wouldn't leave him alone. He'd be desperate for it, wrapping his legs around Gladio to pull him deeper. Who was he trying to fool? He was already desperate for it, biting the palm of his hand every night as he pushed his toy deeper inside himself. He could hardly bear to think about Gladio and Felix together because that led to thinking about himself between them and was like a shock to his groin.

None of this was appropriate.

He blasted himself with cold water for long enough to come to his senses and left the shower. There was no sign of Gladio or Felix in the anteroom. They'd obviously made a hasty retreat.

There was also no sign of his clothing or towel.

He really should have seen this coming.

Instead he froze, staring at the area where he'd left his things as if that would make them magically appear. He was dimly aware of the other glaives moving around him, dressing and drying themselves. There were other clothes and towels lying unattended. Perhaps he could--?

Could what? Steal someone else's property? Leave someone else in the same predicament?

“You okay there, Scientia?” one of the glaives asked him.

Ignis could barely parse the words. Every single nightmare he'd ever had where he was suddenly naked in front of the High Council was crashing into his reality. He tried to focus on the glaive's face, slightly fuzzy without his glasses. Tried to explain the problem. His mouth was full of cotton. A towel. He needed a towel.

Someone wolf-whistled. The concerned glaive retreated, suddenly doing an excellent job of minding his own business.

“No pussy then,” Albus said, eyeing Ignis' crotch.

Belatedly, Ignis covered himself with his hands. Oddly enough, the taunting grounded him. Gave him back his coherency. “Where are my clothes, Albus?”

“How should I know? Why do you need clothes anyway, with your duties?”

This again. “This is getting tiresome, Albus, and you are far too old for these playground antics.” No to mention that if they kept this up, Ignis would be late for his first meeting. The other glaives were trickling out, all avoiding the scene Albus was making with their eyes downcast. Albus may have had few friends but Ignis wasn't exactly popular either. Not enough for anyone else to make themselves a target.

“What's the matter, Scientia? You'd rather some rich old asshole was feeding you lobster?”

Ignis blanched at the reminder of Ambassador Eldridge and how poorly he'd handled that situation. Albus was oddly well-informed. 

The last of the glaives trickled out around them. Ignis wanted to avoid being left alone with Albus and his lackies if he could help it. He headed for the door. Even if it meant walking through the main locker room naked, he'd be able to snatch a towel at least.

Something hit him in the spine with enough force to knock him face-first onto the tiles. His muscles seized and then spasmed, limbs twitching like an overturned beetle's. It took him far too long to process that he hadn't simply been struck. He'd been struck with a thunder spell. He tried to turn his head only to be struck with another. Stronger this time. If his teeth hadn't clenched so tight they were locked together he would have screamed, nerves on fire as the electricity coursed up and down his body.

He floundered, trying to get his hands under him. Albus grabbed a fistful of hair, lifting Ignis' face up to meet his self-satisfied grin. Ignis tried to swipe at him but it only tensed his bicep, the movement aborted before it had really begun. Likely a status effect, some eerily calm part of himself noted, slowed or paralysed.

“Remember when you broke my nose?” Albus said.

 _I'll break every bone in your body this time._ All that came out of Ignis' mouth were a few disjointed noises. He drooled, unable to open and close his jaw properly.

The others moved around in his periphery, bare feet slapping on the tiles. There were more of them than when they'd attacked Pollux. Around a dozen. Not insurmountable odds, usually. When he had full reign over his body.

Albus stroked Ignis' face with the hand not gripping his hair. Ignis would have recoiled if he could. One of the others pulled his legs apart and pushed them under him, spreading him obscenely so that anyone who happened to look could get an eyeful of his most intimate parts.

“Nnn...” Ignis managed, more drool leaking from the corner of his mouth.

“I'll give you a choice,” Albus said. “You can drop the attitude, start being nice to us, or we'll make your life a living hell.”

 _That isn't a choice!_ They'd taken him by surprise this time but it wouldn't happen again. Magic tingled through his scalp and he could move again. Sluggishly. Weakly. Not enough to break Albus' hold on him. Barely enough to kick out his legs and get out of the debasing position he'd been placed in.

“Show me those dick-sucking skills and then maybe I'll forgive you.”

“ _No._ ” Ignis flailed again, blind panic this time. His limbs were still floppy and uncooperative. As soon as he got one leg under him it collapsed again, shin bashing on the hard tile. “No!”

“You sure about that? You already sucked Amicitia off. What's once more to save yourself an ass-kicking?”

They'd profaned their magic, using it for something like this. Their precious gift from King Regis. Ignis healed himself and used all of his returning strength to throw himself from Albus' grip. He careened into the main changing room, grateful to see a handful of other glaives still remained.

And they'd done nothing. They must have heard the commotion and they'd done nothing to stop it.

Ignis' clothes were in his locker, sitting there as if they'd never left. He pulled them on with shaking hands and practically sprinted to his meeting.


	7. Chapter 7

The meeting had been going on for hour after circular hour and Eldridge's presence proved far more distracting than it ought to be. He kept positing the suggestions that Ignis had made, the ones outlined in the huge dossier Ignis had given him at that disastrous lunch. The Cleigne ambassador was voicing legitimate concerns about whether the funding for this would eat into Cleigne's developmental funding, and Eldridge was filibustering. Rather than refute any of those claims, he threw out yet another of Ignis' suggestions and let the resulting nit-picking from the other ambassadors drown it out.

“Enough,” Regis said, eventually. “You're full of suggestions today, Ambassador Eldridge. Do you have a budget for any of them?”

“Any extra cost will be more than justified--”

“I have a budget,” Ignis said, ignoring the glare Eldridge gave him. He took out a sheaf of printouts from his briefcase and passed them around. “The initial costs may seem prohibitive but if we think of this as a pilot scheme and look towards the long-term, ultimately the reclamation of fertile lands in Duscae will benefit both Cleigne and Leide. If it's successful it can then be implemented in other areas.”

“And why start in Duscae?” the Cleigne ambassador asked.

“Because of its location. It's central. Which means it's ideally located to export to all of the surrounding areas. “

It was not an easy or quick solution. It would take months to see the first signs of progress and years to see any significant returns. But if it did work – and Ignis was sure it would – then Insomnia would have viable supply lines for fresh produce for years to come. Perhaps forever.

The debate raged on. Ignis let it wash over him. Whether the equipment was awarded to Duscae, Cleigne, or Leide, Insomnia would still ultimately benefit. If it wouldn't cause logistical problems Ignis might have hoped for it to go to Cleigne instead simply because the Cleigne Ambassador had never propositioned him.

“Are you all right, Ignis?” Regis asked, while the ambassadors bickered among themselves. “You're quiet today.”

“Fine. A little under the weather, that's all.”

“I'm sure we can manage without you from here on out. Get some rest.”

Ignis would normally have refused but feeling under the weather wasn't entirely a lie. He had come here from the glaives' showers with a brief stop to pick up his briefcase and everything was too bright, too loud, his stomach churning. The ambassadors' voices hammering at his skull. “Thank you, your majesty.”

###

There was so much Ignis should be getting on with but he couldn't concentrate. Either it was as if the letters on his screen were fleeing from his gaze or he read the same sentence a dozen times and still couldn't take it in.

 _How dare Eldridge pass off Ignis' work as his own._ Especially after the fiasco that was that lunch. Stolen his hard work and then didn't even have the wherewithal to come up with his own budget or cost benefit analysis.

Clearly this was getting Ignis nowhere. Perhaps a break would clear his head. His hands were still shaking when he pulled his blazer over his shirt but he paid them no mind. He was in control of his body, not the other way around.

He headed to his favourite coffee shop inside the Citadel. The strong smell of rich coffee inside made him queasy. Purely psychosomatic. He ordered a cup of his favourite blend and some tonic water to help his stomach settle. He ended up pushing the coffee aside so that the scent didn't waft up his nostrils while he sipped the tonic water.

_I'll give you a choice._

No. Replaying this mornings events wasn't helpful. Nor was recalling how Eldridge had looked at him when he was rejected.

What was it about him that attracted these kinds of incidents? 

Perhaps he should take a nap. That was usually more in Noct's remit than his own but he was over-tired. He rarely got more than six hours a night and even less in the past couple of weeks. He'd feel a lot better after the rest that King Regis had suggested. Yes, that was all it was. He was tired. He left his coffee untouched and headed back to his apartment.

###

Ignis woke with his alarm. His morning alarm. He must have slept through his others. He'd missed an entire afternoon's worth of meetings! Why hadn't anyone roused him? He only had a single text and it was from Noctis.

_Dad says you're sick. Feel better soon, Specs._

He dismissed the message and opened up his schedule. 6AM – training with the glaives. He stared at it until the phone's screen dimmed.

No, he had the minutes from yesterday's meetings to go over and he had to prioritise those. He'd use Noct's training area later this evening and do a session by himself so that his skills didn't get rusty, so it hardly counted as shirking his duties. And if King Regis had already informed everyone that he was ill, then Cor probably wouldn't be expecting him.

He showered and dressed as usual and was presentable by 06:15. He logged into the palace's intranet on the way to the library and downloaded all of yesterday's minutes, scanning them as he walked. The extra equipment had ultimately been awarded to Duscae, although Cleigne and Leide had been given a little extra funding on the understanding they would also implement any of Ignis' suggestions that were practical with the means they had. The stenographer had recorded an exchange that caught his eye:

King Regis: May I ask where these sudden flashes of inspiration came from?  
Ambassador Eldridge: I have been dealing with these matters for close to a decade now.  
King Regis: And yet in all that time you've never been so insightful.

And speak of the devil, Eldridge was storming up to Ignis now. His face was red. “You duplicitous little whelp,” he hissed. “Making a fool of me in front of the king.”

“You made a fool of yourself,” Ignis snarled, surprising both of them and a couple of unlucky passersby.

“What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me and I'll thank you not to make a scene.”

This was a high traffic area. The staff and visitors hurried past them, not wanting to get involved, but the two crownsguard who were in charge of this area were paying attention. A vein in Eldridge's forehead bulged, his face blotchy and purple as he visibly fought to contain himself. He made a grab, reaching for either the phone in Ignis' hand or Ignis himself.

Ignis punched him.

He came to his senses just a moment too late, enough to pull the punch but not enough to stop it from landing on one of Eldridge's blotchy cheeks. He reeled, bringing his hand up to his face. He goggled at Ignis, palm still pressed to the point of impact.

“You struck me,” Eldridge said, quietly awed at first, then raising his voice. “He struck me! You saw that, didn't you?”

The crownsguard had indeed seen it. The two of them positioned themselves between Ignis and Eldridge in case it escalated.

“The king will hear of this, boy!”

With that hanging in the air, Eldridge stormed off. Ignis could only stare after him, mortified by his own lack of self-control.

“We saw it all, Scientia,” one of the Crownsguard said. “You hardly touched him and it looked retaliatory to me.”

Ignis looked up at her, trying to form a coherent sentence through the litany of self-chastisement echoing in his head. “I-I apologise for my behaviour.”

“No need to apologise to us, kid.”

Ignis nodded. “Thank you for your service. Excuse me.”

###

The dreadful monotony of a full afternoon's worth of minutes helped clear his head somewhat. Besides the meeting with the ambassadors, Insomnia's Public Property committee convened to discuss the rise in anti-refugee graffiti in the poorer parts of the city and that led to a meeting of the other municipal committees which mostly involved trying to shift the blame onto each other for it occurring in the first place. Which led to yet another meeting. King Regis was present for this one and had invited significant figures from Insomnia's refugee charities, with a view to addressing the sentiment behind the graffiti and helping the refugees to integrate. 

Ignis had already filled a few pages with notes and suggestions but he needed a coffee before he made a start on the proposition to make recycling bin collection weekly rather than fortnightly.

An email notification sounded on his phone. He tapped it, closed it and then reopened it again to make sure he was reading it correctly. It read: The king doesn't need to find out...

_I'll give you a choice._

Ignis flung himself into the library bathroom and doubled over the toilet seat. He only brought up a few strings of bile. And no wonder. He hadn't eaten since breakfast the previous day, hadn't even managed a coffee, but the thought of food made his stomach roil. He leaned against the cubicle wall, waiting for his breathing to slow and the nausea to subside.

Absurd. It was absurd for him to react like this. Eldridge was portly and unfit. Certainly no match for him physically. And how would it look if someone came in and saw the prince's adviser pooled on the floor of a public bathroom?

_The king doesn't need to find out..._

What would King Regis say if he found out he'd punched an ambassador in the face? More importantly, what concessions would he be forced to make so that Eldridge didn't disrupt their efforts to secure a supply line? It was within Eldridge's power to eventually sanction Insomnia. Leide and Cleigne would still be viable but if he barred them from travelling through Duscae for Insomnia's deliveries, they'd face a much longer and far more dangerous journey.

It wouldn't be an issue for many years but he had to think of Insomnia's future. The trajectory of Niflheilm's troupes and the spread of daemons. At their current rate of progress Insomnia's ports and even airfields would gradually become less and less reliable.

Ignis pulled himself up from the bathroom floor and cleaned himself up. He headed back to the table with his notes and reference materials spread across it to retrieve his phone. He tapped out a reply.

_What is it that you want, Ambassador Eldridge?_

The response came almost immediately. _Let's discuss this in my quarters at 20:00._

 _I will not be discussing anything in your quarters_ , Ignis replied, skin crawling at the very prospect. It was a shame Eldridge was too clever to put exactly what he was after in writing. Ignis gave him the details of a quiet bar in Insomnia. _I will meet you there at 20:00 to discuss this._

_Looking forward to seeing you this evening._

###

The infirmary didn't strictly allow visitors at this time of day but Ignis strode purposefully through, a stern expression set on his face, and nobody stopped him.

Castor had a book open on his lap. He closed it at Ignis' approach and forced a smile. “Hey, Ignis.” He showed Ignis the cover. “Cor's got me and Pollux studying magical theory while we're out of commission. He gave Pollux the kids' version. Seriously, it was a picture book.”

Ignis recalled those books from Noct's childhood. Dangerous flora and fauna graced the pages in one vs. one battles, the loser meeting its demise on the next page. It was designed to teach him the elemental weaknesses and strengths of each type of magic. Noct had been particularly fond of the cartoon cactuar and had a plush that he'd dragged everywhere from ages six to seven. That same plush still lurked somewhere under the piles of filth in Noctis' apartment.

“Check this out,” Castor said. He clicked his fingers and a flame appeared. “I can light a cigarette. Not sure it'll be much use against the Niffs but it's a cool party trick.”

“If you can do that, you can master other forms of fire magic.”

The flame went out. “The nurse said I couldn't have a potion if I set the bedsheets on fire.”

That seemed fair. “Castor... Did Albus offer you a choice?”

A silence that went on for a beat too long, followed by a strained, “I dunno what you're talking about.”

“I walked in on Albus and his gang beating Pollux half to death and I believe they did something to you too. You weren't hurt, not physically, so I'm asking if they made you the same... offer... they made me.”

Castor stared miserably into his lap, flicking through the pages of his book. “It wasn't a big deal, all right? They just made me spin the bottle and every time it landed on me I had to take a drink... and it only ever landed on me. It was only kissing. It's not like they hurt me or anything. And they said they'd leave Pollux alone. I-- It's fine.”

Ignis' abdomen clenched, trying to expel yet more bile. “It's hardly fine.”

“Will you leave this alone, please? I don't need you making a big fuss.”

“Does Gladio know about all of this?”

“I think he might've guessed but I didn't tell him anything and I know Pollux didn't.”

“Cor needs to know what's going on.”

“Are you going to tell him about what happened to you?”

That was different. Ignis had to maintain his appearance of being completely in control so that the High Council and their foreign counterparts still respected him despite his age.

“Thought so,” Castor said. “There's no point in telling Cor or anyone. There's no proof and even if there was, I didn't say no. I didn't fight them. If Albus thinks we're reporting him – Pollux is still injured. So please, Ignis, don't make this worse for us than it already is. We're not like you. Nobody cares what happens to glaives.”

###

It was probably for the best that Ignis hadn't been able to stomach a meal all day. At the very least it stopped him vomiting all over Eldridge's face when he leaned across the table, solicitous, seeking intimacy he wasn't welcome to. Ignis leaned back on his chair. The bar was quiet, as he knew it would be at this time on a Tuesday evening when most of the surrounding bars were offering happy hours. What was more, it was small and grimy, not the kind of place he could expect any of his colleagues to pop into. He had tonic water in a fingerprint-smudged glass while Eldridge had ordered two glasses of cheap red wine.

If he thought Ignis was going to accept a drink from him then he had another thing coming. The strong smell of the wine as Eldridge pushed the glass toward him reminded him of Castor's confession and his stomach tossed again.

“I'd like to resolve this amicably,” Ignis said and he almost meant it. He would like as little fallout as possible. “I am sorry I behaved in such a way.”

“You caught me off-guard. I thought speaking with his fists was more the Amicitia boy's way. Seems he's a bad influence.”

Tch. Gladio was well aware of his own strength. He was as likely to punch a diplomat as King Regis was to marry Emperor Iediolas. “Again, I'm sorry.”

Eldridge leaned across the table, extending his hand as if he meant to touch Ignis'. “How sorry?”

Ignis drew his hands back and stowed them on his lap. “We're both men of words, excepting earlier today. I was rather hoping that's how we would resolve this.”

“Do you really think words are enough? You made a fool of me in that meeting and then resorted to fisticuffs when confronted. It not only reflects poorly on you but on all of Insomnia. If this is how they treat their honoured guests, then how are any of the citizens of Duscae supposed to believe that you'll fulfil your end of any arrangement we come to?”

Because Insomnia had the wall and people needed to trust them, at least somewhat. Frankly, Insomnia could afford to be a lot less trustworthy than it was. “My actions are my own, I assure you, and not reflective of Insomnia as a whole. I should caution you that I can't grant political favours to Duscae. Not only do I not have the authority, it would be deeply unethical to grant them because of a personal issue.”

“Fortunate then that I have no intention of leveraging political power.” Eldridge nudged the horrible wine with his forefinger again. “Drink this.”

“No, thank you. I'm afraid I simply can't relax until this matter is put to rest.”

Eldridge placed his hand on Ignis' thigh, stroking through the material of his trousers. “I'm sure you can persuade me to forget about your quick fists.”

Ignis had barely stopped himself from kicking out. Instead, he pulled his chair back out of reach of Eldridge's quick hands. “I don't know what you mean, ambassador.”

Not deterred at all, Eldridge only took a sip of his wine and blanched at the taste. “Join me in my quarters. We can share that port I mentioned. See how things progress.”

“I don't see what relocating to your quarters could achieve unless you are proposing something other than a discussion?”

“Are you really so naïve? I thought that brute of a boyfriend would have taught you a few lessons by now.”

“I'll thank you to leave Gladio out of this. I can hardly be expected to agree to something when I don't know what it is that I'm agreeing to. Please lay out exactly what you'd like me to do in order to prevent you from reporting me to King Regis.”

Eldridge looked Ignis up and down, paying particular attention to his throat – the only expanse of exposed skin he had on display. “First, you'll strip for me. Then I'll have you on the bed with that delectable ass in the air. For my comfort, there'll be no prophylactics. We'll make love. And then no one need mention your lack of restraint ever again.”

It took Ignis a couple of deep breaths with his gorge rising for him to be able to speak again. “And do you have a reasonable request?”

“I'm being more than reasonable after you assaulted me. After letting that behemoth of an Amicitia mount you, this should hardly be a challenge.”

Hadn't he just told him to leave Gladio out of this? “I'm not going to sleep with you.”

“Then I'm sure your king will be very disappointed to find out his son's advisor is no more than a common thug.”

“And I'm sure your wife will be very disappointed to find out what you get up to when not under her watchful eye.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“You don't wear a ring so I had assumed you were single but your marriage license says otherwise.” Ignis pulled the Dictaphone from the inside pocket of his jacket, letting Eldridge see exactly what it was. “And this says you're less than faithful, among your many other vices. She isn't the only person you'll disappoint, of course. I scarcely think anyone in Duscae will trust you around their sons when they find out exactly what you are.”

Eldridge made a grab for the Dictaphone. Ignis vanished it into the armiger.

“And if you're thinking of concocting some story about me faking this recording in order to entrap you, then I'd advise against it. The security footage from the evening will corroborate every word, as will the bartender who's been paying very close attention ever since your hands wandered beneath the table.”

Eldridge's face had taken on that ghastly purple hue again. “You-- You can't.”

“I won't. Not unless you force my hand. If you ever try to coerce me or anyone else ever again, if you breathe a word of our scuffle to King Regis, if you attempt to sanction Insomnia or disrupt our restoration work, I will find out about it and I'll make sure the entire world know the truth about you.”

“Shameful. Adding blackmail to your repertoire after the violence.”

“I won't hear another word about my character from a man who tried to coerce me into sex. Although I suppose I should thank you for being so very graphic. There's no ambiguity about what exactly it is you were after.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get wrecked Eldridge, you fucker!


	8. Chapter 8

Ignis had visited Cor's office before in the course of his duties. It was a tiny, cramped space where paperwork was sent to die. He knew now to give important documents to Cor in person or not at all, and that it was something of a privilege that Cor didn't immediately shred them when he was out of Ignis' sight. Never before had Ignis been summoned here.

But there he was and there was Cor, staring down at him with his arms crossed.

“What the hell do you think you're playing at, Ignis?” he said.

Honestly, Ignis didn't know. He'd skipped the first day's training with every intention of coming to the next. Then when it arrived, he couldn't face it. Or the next or the next. And it had become a habit. “I've been keeping to my own rigorous training routine.”

“Cut the crap. I've seen you at meetings when you look like someone scraped you off the curb. Regis said you kept up with your correspondence when you had stomach flu by taking your phone into the can with you. So what the hell's got you skipping my training?”

His silence was answer enough. Cor had no time for the bureaucracy that Ignis and King Regis waded through every day but he was still an insightful and intelligent man.

“What happened, Ignis?”

_You'll only make everything worse. Pollux is still injured._

“I just... I don't feel very welcome among the glaives.”

“Not even with Gladio there? Thought you two were thick as thieves.”

 _Were_ was the operative word. They hadn't spoken in over a fortnight now and although Gladio had no idea what had happened in his absence, and could not possibly have found out, Ignis still resented him for not being there. Not stopping it. Not seeing the escalation even though Ignis had also failed to see it until it was too late. “We had a... disagreement.”

“Ah...” Cor shifted his feet. Some kind of understanding dawned on his face. “Look, friends fight. You'd think Regis and Clarus shared an umbilical cord the way they are now but they used to get into rows like you wouldn't believe.”

Ignis doubted things between the two of them had ever gotten so complicated. They were king and shield, who'd had wives of their own and very defined lines drawn between them from birth. “Yes, Marshall.”

“Hey, come on. I can't have you looking like I kicked your puppy. This isn't a disciplinary. Hell, you work yourself harder than I'd ever dream of working you and I don't doubt the rigorous solo training. I don't know what you and Gladio had to fight about but I do know in a couple of months you won't even remember what got you all riled up in the first place. If you talk it out, that is. Gladio's a good kid. Bit of a dunce when it comes to this stuff but his heart's in the right place. You two get together and sort this out. Everything'll be fine.”

“Yes, Marshall.”

“And hey, the glaives can be cliquey but Castor and Pollux are back in action now. That'll make things friendlier, huh?”

“Yes, Marshall.”

“Stop yes Marshalling me, Scientia. We've all been worried about you – yes, even Gladio – with you taking ill, at a meeting no less.”

“Yes, m-- I mean, I'm sorry to have caused you concern. I should have known better than to let my personal issues with Gladio interfere with my training.” Yes, let Cor believe it was all about Gladio. That was far better than informing him of the truth.

“Don't you worry about that. The glaives aren't what you're used to and you're something else for them. They don't really go for etiquette the way you know it. But if they're really bothering you, you can always bring it to me. You now that, right Ignis?”

“Yes, Marshall. Sorry. I meant-- yes, I do know that.”

“All right. Good. I'm going to let the missed training slide this time and this time only. Understood?”

“I do, Marshall. It won't happen again.”

###

Cor was correct about one thing. Ignis needed to talk to Gladio. If they were eventually to become Noct's advisor and Noct's shield, they could hardly spend the rest of their lives avoiding each other. Tracking Gladio down proved to be an arduous task, however. Ignis just missed him in the library. Then in his and Noct's private training area. Then in Clarus' office.

Ignis resorted to checking Gladio's schedule and inviting himself to the meeting Gladio was tasked with guarding. He was assigned to watch over the chair of Insomnia City Council's Fiscal committee as practise for when he would be guarding Noct at similar meetings. This meeting was the thrilling conclusion of the extra recycling bin collection which apparently hadn't been resolved in the prior discussions.

Ignis hadn't planned to take part. He'd simply wanted to observe Gladio and catch him when the meeting adjourned. He was dragged into it regardless. The bin men understandably wanted a pay rise to reflect the increase in their workload. Some time before Ignis was born, King Regis had caused quite a scandal by inviting blue collar workers to these discussions rather than a more palatable representative, with the reasoning that the people best informed on these matters were the people actually doing the job. So the chair negotiated on one side, while one of the binmen negotiated on the other.

The chair rubbed Ignis up the wrong way and not only because he had a plummy accent that reminded him of Eldridge. The binman the city had sent was young and obviously intimidated by the chair's vocabulary and perceived social status, which the chair took full advantage of. He littered his speech with legalese that barely made sense and the binman was too embarrassed to ask for clarification.

Ignis took over the negotiations and rail-roaded them both. He finally got the chairman to agree to not only a pay rise but an extra day's holiday a year for the workers. He was so engrossed in ironing out the details for that, that he almost missed Gladio trying to make his escape.

Ah. Perhaps that was the reason Gladio had been so elusive. Because he'd chosen to be.

Well, Ignis wouldn't allow it. He had to sprint to catch up to Gladio but catch up he did.

“Gladio, may I borrow you for a moment?”

“I've gotta be somewhere--” Gladio tried to hurry away. Ignis side-stepped in front of him. “Get outta my way, Ignis.”

“Not until we've talked this through.”

“Fine.” Gladio opened the door to one of the empty board rooms. “Get in here.”

It was what Ignis had wanted. What he thought he wanted, anyway. But now he had Gladio in front of him, he was at a loss for words. He couldn't very well just tell Gladio about Eldridge and Albus and so much had happened since their argument, he could scarcely remember why he'd been so annoyed in the first place.

“You got something to say?” Gladio said. “Cause I'm busy.”

Busy avoiding Ignis. “I...”

“Forget it!”

“Wait Gladio! I thought you were being protective because you didn't think I was as capable of defending myself as you are.” And he'd been right, hadn't he?

“No shit. And I told you I don't think that. And what's more, you should have already known I didn't think of you like that, the amount of times you've kicked my ass.”

“You're hardly the innocent party here. Your possessiveness is what started all of this in the first place.”

“My possessiveness? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You getting jealous because I grappled with Felix. Rather rich of you considering what you got up to with him.”

Of all the ways Gladio could have chosen to react, he chose to laugh. “You sure I'm the one that's jealous?”

“Don't be absurd.”

“Absurd now, am I? Great talk. Let's talk again when you've figured this out, huh?!

Preposterous. There was nothing for him to figure out. If there was, he would have done so ages ago. But Gladio was leaving and they'd changed nothing. “Wait!”

Gladio did stop, to his credit. He leaned back against the door he'd been reaching for and crossed his arms over his chest. “What?”

“Gladio...” Ignis had nothing. He was actually speechless. Words seemed to keep failing him these days. He wanted something from Gladio but it was something he couldn't express. Couldn't summon even the vaguest notion of how to express. But the most urgent thing, the thought most foremost in his mind, was that he didn't want Gladio to leave.

He seized the lapels of Gladio's Crownsguard uniform. King Regis had assured Ignis he still had a couple of years of growing left but he was still just over average height, short compared to Gladio who'd been massive even in his early teens. He had to stand on tiptoes to deliver his insistent kiss, lips nudging against Gladio's.

“Fuck me, Gladio,” he murmured into it.

For a moment, Gladio's lips parted. He ran his fingers through Ignis' hair. Then he firmly but gently took Ignis' shoulders and pushed him down by them. “Astrals, Iggy. You're the smartest person I know. How can you be this much of an idiot?”

“I don't--” Instead of the pleasant flush he had anticipated, Ignis' body filled with a sticky, cloying heat. The nausea rose in him again. Why wouldn't Gladio just _make sense_?

“You look sick, Iggy. Get some gods-damned sleep.”

“Wait--”

But this time Gladio didn't. The door swung dangerously on its hinges as he stormed out.

###

Castor and Pollux were back at training and so, unfortunately, was Ignis. Pollux still had the faded remains of a black eye. Had the socket been broken? It had been hard to tell under all the swelling but a potion would have taken care of anything superficial instantly. Noct handed them out like h'ors d'ouvres for the slightest of ailments so Ignis was intimately familiar with their healing properties and their limitations. Castor looked fine. The last vestiges of exhaustion were gone from his face. The two of them stuck close together, heads almost touching, whispering among themselves. Pollux still favoured his left side. Ignis' gaze kept returning to his bruised eye socket.

_I'll make your life a living hell._

A hand on Ignis' shoulder made him jump out of his skin. It was only Felix, brows drawn together.

“You okay, kid? Gladio said you were sick.”

Yes, his absence must have been remarked upon. “Better now.”

“Good, good. I kinda owe you an apology, huh?”

An apology? “What on earth for?” Especially compared to his cohorts, Felix's behaviour had been exemplary. He'd make a fine glaive once he completed his training.

“For thinking with my dick. It's hard to concentrate on anything with Gladio's ass in the room – you know what I'm talking about.” Ignis' body decided this would be an appropriate time to blush. “But it's no excuse for acting like a horny teenager right in front of you.”

“I don't see what any of that has to do with me.”

Felix's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. His eyes widened. It would be comical if it wasn't so utterly baffling. “You don't.”

“No.”

“Oh. Ah. Right. No harm done then.”

A thought occurred to Ignis as Felix hurried away. Felix was handsome. Strong. Pleasant. Definitely interested in men if Gladio's antics were anything to go by... That train of thought skittered away from him as Albus' voice cut through the rest of the chatter. Caterwauling something inane at his cronies about how he'd trounce them in training. For some unfathomable reason, that made Ignis seek out Gladio.

Shirtless as he always was. Laughing as he always was. Unruffled and unhurried as he always was.

Gladio didn't know, Ignis reminded himself. It was entirely unreasonable for him to expect Gladio to figure it out from first principles. Even if it felt like his mind was blaring like a siren, Ignis hadn't said anything. He was being irrational. Worse, he was being stupid.

He still stared at Gladio's back for so long that he didn't notice when the glaives started to file out into the training hall.

“Get your sweet ass moving, Scientia,” one of them called.

“Shut your filthy mouth,” Ignis snarled, all the confusion and frustration unfurling from him in that one shout.

His companions laughed at the unfortunate, startled glaive. Ignis slammed his locker shut and joined the throng of people leaving the changing room. If nothing else, at least the training should allow him to work through some of the tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments on the last chapter. I don't have time to reply atm but I really do read and appreciate every one.


	9. Chapter 9

Far from allowing Ignis to work through his tension, the training compounded everything that was wrong. After drills and group magic work, Ignis was paired with _Albus_ of all people for one-on-one sparring. Logically, it was surprising it hadn't happened sooner. There were not all that many glaives. Few people were compatible with Lucian magic, after all. Ignis had sparred with his cronies before. For the most part, they had a weak grasp on their magic and an even weaker grasp on their training weapons, which Ignis quickly divested them of. No wonder they'd scuttled to Albus at the first opportunity.

However, thanks to Cor's rigorous drills and individual assessments, all of the trainee glaives had been getting stronger. Ignis had been bested a few times before his week-long absence. The shock of electricity that Albus had used to fell him had been skilfully applied to incapacitate rather than kill or injure him.

As important as it was for Insomnia's defence, none of it was very comforting at this juncture.

“You thought about my offer?” Albus asked, moving into a defensive stance with his training sword. “Can't stay a virgin forever. You might as well get something out of it.” His casual, friendly tone belied the words he was speaking.

Ignis guarded too. He was better at defence than frontal assault, which was ore Gladio's bailiwick. “I will never sleep with you, Albus. Force me and I'll ensure that you're executed.”

“Whoa now. No one's gonna force you.”

 _They just made me play spin the bottle._ “Like you didn't force Castor.”

“Not my fault Castor's easy. Dunno what he's getting so pissy for now. He's had more cock in him than the locker room's urinal.”

It was a sickeningly obvious ploy to provoke him. Ignis still grit his teeth. “And you, of course, are the pinnacle of virtue.”

“Gotta be better uses for that tongue than all those fancy words.”

Ignis would _cut Albus' out._ He shifted his stance, subtly giving Albus an opening to attack. “Are you incapable of making a move unless I'm paralysed?”

“Nice try, Scientia. I like the view from over here. Those pants are nice and tight. What do you posh fucks call it? Dressing to the left?”

Nice try indeed. Ignis' clothing was nowhere near that revealing, his sweatpants specifically chosen because they were slightly baggy on him. He ought to do something, however, before Cor came along to chastise them for standing still.

“Dunno why you bother wearing clothes. Everyone's imagining you without them anyway. Specially me now I've seen what's under all that. Shame I didn't get to see your hole, though. Ferris said it looked tight as a vice and clean enough to eat your dinner off of.”

Rather than give him the impetus to strike, hearing his body described in such a vulgar way made Ignis gag. His grip on his training lance weakened, remembering hands on him, putting him on display...

Pollux, who was training right behind behind them, was not so affected. He brought the blunt end of his training sword hard over his shoulder and thwacked Albus in the head with it. It struck hard enough to for the crack to resound across the training hall. Albus staggered off his feet.

“Whoops,” Pollux said, unconvincingly, wielding his sword like he meant to strike again if Albus dared get up.

“Pollux!” Cor roared from the other end of the training hall. He stamped toward them, borne by the full force of his fury. “What the _fuck_ do you think you're playing at?”

###

For the second time, Ignis was hauled into Cor's office. Along with Pollux. Albus had been sent to the infirmary with a concussion to the strains of Cor yelling at Pollux about all of the very valid reasons they should not strike their allies in the head and if he'd stop _watching action movies and use his fucking brain for half a second_ he'd know that it was just as likely to kill or brain damage someone as to immobilise them. Which was true, although describing Albus as an ally was stretching the definition somewhat. That was apparently only the portion of the dressing down that was palatable enough for the other recruits to hear, and Cor was gearing up for another.

Pollux slouched in his seat like a surly teenager. Exactly like a surly teenager. He reminded Ignis of Noct, who adopted that same posture whenever he was being told something he didn't want to hear.

“I know what you're gonna do and I'm telling you: don't,” Cor said. “Don't bother lying to me.”

“It was an accident,” Pollux said anyway.

“Yeah, yeah. Walked into your sword, did he? You wanna tell me what prompted this 'accident', Ignis?”

Lying to Cor was almost as bad as lying to the king. Every instinct that had been trained into him from the time he was six years old told him to confess right this instant. “I'm sure Pollux will endeavour to practise better handling of his sword in the future.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say.” Cor stared at him hard and Ignis stared back, trying not to crack. “I dunno what the hell's gotten into both of you. Two of the last people I thought I'd ever have to have a word with about starting fights, truancy, only the gods know what else. Especially you, Ignis. But if you're not gonna tell me what's going on then there's not a damn thing I can do about it. If you're both going to act like mindless thugs, you'll get punished like mindless thugs.”

Ignis gripped the arms of his chair. Pollux just remained slumped, looking bored. Laid out in black and white Ignis' crimes did simply make him look like an idiotic teenager who'd gone off the rails.

“Still not giving up an explanation, huh? Fine. Pollux, you get to write me a ten page essay on decorum befitting a member of the Kingsglaive and if I find out your brother helped at all – and I will find out – it's gonna be a twenty page essay with me breathing down your neck for every word.” He watched Pollux's reaction owlishly.

“You want it in cursive?” Pollux asked.

Cor ignored him. “And you, Ignis--”

“He didn't do anything,” Pollux said. “Didn't even touch Albus.”

“Do I look like a fucking moron to you, Pollux?”

“No, sir. Just don't see how you can punish a guy for just standing there.”

Cor sighed heavily. “Something made you brain Albus. He's not being punished for standing there. He's being punished because the both of you let whatever it is get to the point of you braining Albus without telling me a damn thing, and caused a scene in _my_ training hall. Now do you wanna interrupt me again and write me another ten pages?”

Pollux clamped his mouth shut.

“You, Ignis, get to run extra drills and trust exercises with Albus until you two either sort whatever the hell this is out between the two of you or you feel like telling me what the fuck is happening with you.”

“Marshall...” It came out strangled. Ignis should be staying perfectly stoic. Putting up as much resistance as Pollux was but he couldn't. He couldn't. Couldn't be in the same room as Albus. Alone. Pollux had turned to stare at him too, mouth hanging open.

“That's bullshit!” Pollux actually sprang up from his chair, getting in Cor's face like a wasp. As if the Immortal couldn't swat him just as easily as one. “You're punishing him for being quiet! I'm the one who hit Albus--”

Cor's expression had calcified. “Get out, Pollux.”

“You can't do this! Sir! You can't!”

“Get out before I throw you out.”

Pollux shuffled out of the office with a last, lingering look over his shoulder. _No no no_. Ignis should have hidden his reaction better. He'd given everything away. He was supposed to be a diplomat. Cor sat on the chair Pollux had vacated and dragged it right beside Ignis.

“What did Albus do to you?”

“Nothing, Marshall,” Ignis said automatically, it even sounded convincing.

“Cut the crap, Ignis. Nothing doesn't make you look like you're gonna piss your pants.” Cor's voice softened. “I know it takes a lot to rattle you, kid, and I don't want anyone who's doing that kind of rattling in the Kingsglaive. We need to have each other's backs out there. But I can't kick someone out because of a suspicion. You of all people must understand that.”

“Yes. I understand.”

“So?”

So? _So?_ Ignis couldn't tell Cor of all people what had happened to him. That he'd been manipulated into stripping by a dimwit. That he'd been manhandled and humiliated by one adequate glaive and a dozen or so who'd never amount to more than cannon fodder. How could anyone like that be trusted to protect Noct? No one would ever again have any faith in his ability to prepare Noct for kinghood. How could a... a... plaything have that kind of responsibility?

“Albus and I don't get along,” he said.

“No shit! And what else, Ignis? Whatever it is, we can deal with it. Discreetly. I won't let even Regis get wind of it, if that's what you want. But for any of that to happen, I have to know what we're dealing with.”

Tempting. Oh-so-tempting. If it was only himself involved, Ignis might very well have let it all pour out of him. Might. He wouldn't be much of chamberlain if he simply let other people deal with his problems. Yes, this was his problem. And dealing with problems was his job. “I believe it's called smack-talk? I let Albus' get to me and Pollux must have picked up on that. He was simply looking out for a friend. I hope you won't think too badly of him.”

“Uh-huh.” Cor let out a long, heavy sigh. Ignis simply let the silence stretch out. It'd take a lot more to pry the truth from him than that. “I can't force you to tell me what's going on. I won't make you and Albus train together but I am going to keep an eye on the both of you. Just keep in mind... You can talk to me if something's bothering you. If you need to.”

###

Outside, Castor was giving Pollux another telling off. Ignis caught only the tail end. “--stupid fucking idiot. He's got a _concussion_. Think he's just gonna forget who gave it to him?”

Pollux only grinned. “The marshall's really hot when he's mad.”

“Pollux--!”

Ignis was unable to catch any more of their conversation because he was swept away by hurricane Gladio and pulled into one of the bathroom stalls. There was scarcely enough room for the both of them in there. They were wedged chest to chest. A fact Gladio didn't seem to be aware of because he seized both of Ignis' shoulders and frantically searched his face.

“Was it Albus?”

 _Yes._ Perhaps Gladio had heard Albus' crass comments somehow. Or one of the other glaives had mentioned it to him. Or he'd worked it out the way Cor had, by seeing the way Ignis had reacted to Albus. He could be oddly perceptive when he wanted to be.

Gladio shook his shoulders. “Iggy. Was it Albus who beat seven shades of shit out of Pollux?”

Oh. This was about Pollux. “You really ought to ask him that.”

“He wouldn't tell me. Neither of them would.”

“And you expect me to betray their confidence?”

“That's a yes. I can tell by your face.”

Gladio started to squeeze his way around Ignis. Ignis grabbed a handful of his tank top. “Gladio. Do not take this matter into your own hands. Neither Pollux nor Castor will thank you for it.”

“You really think I'm some kinda mindless brute, don't you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna disgrace the crown or whatever's got your panties in a bunch.”

Ignis tightened his grip “What in the world are you talking about?”

Gladio only yanked his top free and left Ignis alone in the stall.

###

Ignis had more important things to deal with than Gladio's baffling behaviour. Getting Noct prepared for the official gifting ceremony of the Duscaen farming equipment for one thing. Which unfortunately meant seeing Ambassador Eldridge again. Which he couldn't think about right now because, even though they both knew he would acquiesce, Noctis was putting up his usual token resistance.

“Don't see why I have to wear a suit,” he said, even though he very much did know why he had to wear a suit because Ignis had explained to him at length about how presentation and politics were inextricably linked and him turning up in his tracksuit bottoms might very well cause an international skirmish. While wearing said suit, he was endeavouring to look as slovenly as possible. His posture was appalling.

Prompto had been allowed to attend on the condition that they both behave themselves. In contrast to Noct, he was standing so stiffly in one of Noct's spare suits that one could suspect it had been over-starched. “Come on, dude,” he said. “Everyone else is all dressed up. You can't roll up in your fishing gear. It'd be like you were the only one who thought it was a costume party.”

“This whole ceremony's a waste of funding that could have gone to the relief efforts.”

Prompto shifted uncomfortably. Ignis only sighed, rotated Noctis by the shoulders and gave him an encouraging shove into the banquet hall. “We are presenting the equipment publicly because the territories outside the wall need to know that we are still invested both emotionally and financially in their plights. You are required to attend because they need to know the royal family is personally invested. All you have to do is stand beside your father and look regal while he delivers the speech and the symbolic seeds--”

“Symbolic seeds?”

“--and then you get to spend the rest of the night with Prompto. Please do stand up straight.”

With Noctis deposited safely on the dais beside his father, Gladio and Clarus in their ceremonial regalia standing a step behind each of them, Ignis was left with Prompto. Whom he didn't know very well. He seemed to regard Ignis with the same incontinent terror with which he regarded all authority figures, though Ignis was sure he'd never given him any reason to be afraid. Although he did make pleased chirping whenever he sampled Ignis' cooking.

“Would you like a drink, Prompto?” he asked. “A _non-alcoholic_ drink.”

“Yes? Um, is that allowed? Do I just take one or...?”

Ignis showed him to the lower drinks table intended for any children in attendance. He fetched a glass of water for himself while Prompto selected something bright green and frothing. Ignis was old enough to partake of the champagne flutes now if he wished but he had no desire to cloud his mind. Especially with Eldridge in attendance. And Ignis was certainly not eyeing Gladio in his regalia, thinking about how impossibly good he looked in it.

He had other things to consider, after all. This was not an extremely high security event. There were Crownsguard stationed closer to the king and prince just in case but trainee glaives were picking up the slack to get practical experience, since this would eventually become one of their duties. Albus was safely quarantined in the infirmary but Ignis recognised a couple of his lackeys. Castor and Pollux too. And Felix.

“So,” Prompto said. He was not one to let a silence last. “What are the symbolic seeds, uh, symbolic of?”

“Actual seeds.”

“For real?”

There was a lot in King Regis' speech about how the good will between them would continue to grow and whatnot but he could appreciate it was all rather silly. “They're to put in an office or a museum somewhere to commemorate today. It's more about the deed than what we actually, physically give him.”

“Right.”

They watched Ambassador Eldridge accept the symbolic seeds with apparent good grace and shake King Regis' hand with a warm smile.

“Dude-- I mean, Ignis, you okay? You look like you're trying to murder that guy with your eyes.”

“Merely encouraging Noct to maintain his dignity,” Ignis said quickly, trusting that Prompto was still too intimidated by him to mention it had been Eldridge and not Noct he was looking at. Especially since Noct was doing a very admirable job of standing up straight and looking engaged by the proceedings. He hadn't even let so much as a smile slip at the symbolic seeds.

“Noct says that this stuff's all about making sure no one finds out what you mean or what you're really thinking.”

“Does he now?”

“Crap. Did I just get him into trouble?”

Sourly, Ignis recalled how he'd once thought Eldridge was merely friendly. “He isn't entirely wrong.”

The speech and the exchange done, the royal retinue dispersed. Noct hooked his elbow through Regis' to help him climb down the steps of the dais. The press had a field day with the gesture, washing them both in blue flashes.

“Don't let Noct drink,” Ignis told Prompto. “He doesn't have the stomach for it. And don't answer any questions if a journalist gets his claws on you.”

“Journalists?!”

Ignis ignored that high-pitched shriek. Now that the royal family were on the move, the glaives would be too. Ignis bumped into Pollux. A smile died on Ignis' face at the look of pure, unbridled hatred he received.

“You told Cor about Albus?” Pollux said, before Ignis could ask what was wrong. “What? He got too close to figuring out what was going on with you, so you had to throw me under the bus?”

“I told Cor nothing.”

“Don't bullshit me. Cor knows it was Albus who beat the shit out of me and he rode me for a full hour trying to get me to report it.”

What? But Ignis hadn't told Cor anything about what Albus had done. Not to himself and he certainly hadn't mentioned Pollux. “Pollux, I swear I didn't--”

“Fuck you! Everyone told me you couldn't trust the suits upstairs. All they do is lie and smile at each other while they embezzle and play mind games in secret. Gladio said you were different and I was dumb fuck enough to believe him. So fuck you.”

 _Gladio_. Ignis had told him not to take matters into his own hands, meaning that he shouldn't confront Albus directly. He'd never have suspected Gladio would report this to Cor. And of course Ignis wasn't going to out Gladio, so that left him with little recourse.

“I'm sorry, Pollux.”

“Shove your sorry up your ass!”

###

The Leiden ambassador cornered him after that. Ignis got through the interaction on autopilot. Something about how their potatoes were legendary and they'd have some sent to the palace and Duscae had never really established itself in any particular crop. When he managed to escape, Ignis headed to the balcony for some fresh air. That look Pollux had given him kept floating over his vision like a too-large hat that had slipped. And Gladio, the great oaf, causing chaos without even trying.

The balcony doors swung open again. It would have been a relief to see Noct. Or Gladio. Even Prompto. Instead they revealed two of Albus' lackies. Just what he needed when his thoughts were already a jumble.

“Get back to your posts,” Ignis said, an order which he had absolutely no authority to give.

“Are you supposed to be out here?” one of them said. The one that was called Mensa. The other was Sella if he recalled correctly.

No. He was supposed to be guiding Noct through yet another formal function. But he'd justified slipping out by telling himself that Noct couldn't get up to much with both Regis and Clarus around. “What do you want?”

“We could put in a good word for you with Albus. Get him to leave you alone.” Mensa was apparently the spokesman. Sella just stood at the door, looking between it and Ignis.

“Out of the goodness of your hearts, I assume?” Ignis said.

“You just have to be nice to us.”

The way they looked at him made his skin crawl. “I assume you mean cook you hot dinners, help you with your training, and the like.”

“I mean suck us off now and then. You're supposed to be good at it.”

Or he could push them both off the balcony. “I'm not going to have sex with either of you.”

“It's not sex. Just a blowie.”

Is that how they justified it to themselves? As if he would even entertain the idea. He shoved past them both, out into the banquet hall, past anyone trying to get his attention, and ran all the way back up to his rooms.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis sleeps with someone who isn't Gladio in this chapter. If that isn't your jam feel free to skip the third scene entirely.

That knock couldn't possibly be one of the trainee glaives. They weren't allowed this deep into the palace to begin with and Ignis' closeness to Noct meant that the location of his rooms within the palace was something only select Crownsguard and the royal retinue were privy to. But he stil braced himself when he opened the door.

It was only Noct, with Prompto standing out uncomfortably in the hall.

“You should be at the ceremony,” Ignis said, quite ignoring that the same could be said of him.

“Iggy, you okay? Prompto said you were acting weird before.”

“I'm-- Just a little under the weather, that's all.” He trusted that he looked wretched enough to sell the lie.

Noct felt Ignis' forehead, taking his temperature in the same manner as Ignis had taken his many times before. Ignis was clammy with sweat still. “Yeah,” Noct said. “You don't look good.” He withdrew his hand.

“Noct. Go back to the ceremony. I'll join you again shortly.”

“You don't have to come back if you're sick. I can handle one function without you.”

“I am fine.”

“You still look like you're gonna hurl-- Crap.” 

Before Ignis could scold him for the bad language, Gladio appeared behind Noct, eclipsing the entire doorway. “Remember what I said about not getting outta my sight?”

“Yeah.”

“You do? Cause it seems like you don't. Seems like I just climbed three flights of stairs to find you slacking off. You okay, Iggy? I saw you high-tail it outta there like your ass was on fire.”

Ignis hadn't expected concern after their last few encounters. Noct answered for him. “He's sick.”

“Sick? How sick?” He tugged Noctis aside as if he could shield him from germs as well as physical threat.

“Nothing serious,” Ignis said quickly. “Nothing contagious either. Just one too many shrimps.”

“You shouldn't eat sea bugs,” Noct said. “Super gross.”

“I've seen you eat a bagel that was one half cream cheese and one half chocolate spread,” said Gladio.

“Hey, those are good. You shoulda tried it. You need a potion or anything, Iggy?”

“There's no need to fuss. Now please could all three of you go back to ceremony before your absence is noted.” Prompto was staring at him, unusually silent. Prompto knew he hadn't had a single refreshment except water. Ignis was so frazzled he was already losing track of his lies. “I'll join you once I've perked myself back up.”

He closed the door on their protests and trusted Gladio to wrangle Noct back to where he was supposed to be. Ignis splashed his face with water from the sink and patted it dry. There. He was fine. He should never have let himself get so worked up over a couple of ne'er do wells in the first place.

Although no more than a few minutes could have passed since the others returned to the party, Noct had already drawn a small crowd. Gladio was at his shoulder, a large and very obvious shadow.

Prompto... must have gotten separated from them. He had a handful of h'ors d'oevures and was doing his best to look politely interested.

Ignis' heart froze when he saw who he was talking to. The only reason he didn't shove Prompto bodly away from Ambassador Eldridge was a lifetime of conditioning not to cause a scene at official events. Instead, he stepped up smartly beside Prompto and glowered at Eldridge.

“What are you discussing?” he said, trying not to let his voice betray anything.

“I wondered if this young man would like to see the symbolic seeds.” Eldridge too kept his tone light. He showed both Ignis and Prompto the seeds. They were gold, suspended in a perfect glass rectangle with the date engraved on a very tasteful plaque at the bottom.

“Yep,” Prompto said. “Those sure are some symbolic seeds. Very... symboly.”

 _He's sixteen. Sixteen, you piece of filth. If I find out you so much as breathed on him, I'll rip out your lungs._ “Very nice. Prompto, if you'd help me fetch some drinks.”

“Um, Ignis...” Prompto trotted along in his wake as Ignis stormed to the drinks table. “Ignis?!”

Ignis had grabbed Prompto's arms without quite meaning to, searching his face for anything amiss. It registered nothing except faint surprise. “What did Ambassador Eldridge say to you?”

“That old dude? He just asked how I knew Noct and I told him we went to the same school and then he asked what duchy I was from and I wasn't sure whether I'm actually allowed to be here as me or not so I panicked and told him my dad was Duke Dukeson the Duke of Dukedom and then he asked if I wanted to see the seeds and then you turned up. Can I please have my arm back?”

Ignis gave Prompto some space to breathe. “My apologies.”

“It's cool. So... uh... that Eldridge guy's bad news? He's the one you were trying to eyeball murder before and you obviously thought he was gonna do something weird to me.”

Noct's little friend was inconveniently perceptive. How could Ignis possibly lie when affixed with that innocent blue gaze? _Like this_. “He's quite politically-minded. I simply didn't want him to manipulate you into revealing something that might undermine Noct.”

“That'd be just my luck. Get invited to one fancy party and end up beheaded for treason or whatever. What about the other two guys?”

“What?”

“The guards? Glaives? Whatever they are. You went on the balcony. They followed you. Then you ran out of there.”

How could he have been so stupid? After all his efforts not to make a scene.

“Noct was picking at the buffet, seeing if there was anything he'd actually eat,” Prompto continued. “Gladio was telling him to hurry up and eat something, so he only saw you running. But I saw everything. Um. Sorry.”

“It doesn't concern you.”

“Yeah, probably not. But you looked seriously freaked. So I am. Concerned, I mean.”

The thought of Prompto – who Noct had once dared to lick a mothball, _which he did_ – being concerned for him took him aback. “You've no need to worry about me.”

“Ignis. Dude. You lied to Noct's face.”

“About shrimp. Hardly a grave betrayal.”

“Have you ever lied to him about anything before?”

No. Not even the usual ones people told when dealing with fussy eaters. He'd never told Noct that carrots would help him see in the dark or that spinach would make him grow muscles like Gladio's. But Noct couldn't know about any of this. As the crown prince, he would be obligated to take action. As Ignis' friend, it would only hurt him.

“It's nothing I can't handle,” Ignis said. “Just a bit of teasing.”

There. That was an embarrassing enough admission. A royal advisor of Lucis being bullied like the palace was a school playground. Understanding broke like daylight across Prompto's face.

“Can't you just, like, get the king to make it illegal?”

“I'm afraid not. I'm sure they'll tire of it sooner or later.”

***

Only days ago, it had been hard for Ignis to imagine the training hall becoming more hostile. Now with Pollux – and Castor by association – not speaking to him, it was as if he'd been cordoned off from the rest of the glaives. Laughter and chatter on one side, him on the other. Every rumble of Gladio's voice shook him. The warmth Castor and Pollux showed Gladio rightfully belonged to Ignis.

“You okay there, Scientia?” Felix asked.

People had been asking that a lot lately. He glanced at Felix and his warm brown eyes that were so like Gladio's. Felix, who was a decent man and the sort of glaive they should all aspire to be. Felix, who was large and very, very handsome. “Are you available later this evening?”

“Should be. You need something?”

And Gladio had made this look so easy. “I was wondering if you might like to join me. At my apartment.”

The space between Felix's eyebrows creased, then smoothed out as he finally took Ignis' meaning. “Definitely! Yeah, yeah. I'll be there.”

Conscious of security still, Ignis gave him the address of his apartment outside the palace. He typed the address into Felix's phone along with his number when they had a moment alone. Felix looking like a very satisfied cat the whole time.

***

Outside of his training uniform, Felix wore a light grey T-shirt that hugged his muscles and a darker pair of sweatpants. Ignis was overdressed in comparison. He'd agonised over his wardrobe, finally selecting a pair of tailored charcoal trousers, a cream shirt, and an embroidered dark green waistcoat. He'd styled his hair too, constructing something Noct would be proud of out of gel.

He'd made a light meal for them since neither of them would want to be bloated. They should also be well-hydrated so he'd placed pitchers of water in the living room and bedroom along with a glass each. He'd put on the air conditioning so it was just a little chilly in preparation for when things heated up. A selection of lubricants lay on his bedside table.

Felix scooped him up as soon as he answered the door, Ignis wrapping his legs around Felix's waist to keep his balance.

“You ready?” Felix asked.

Ignis nodded. Perhaps he'd overthought this.

The clothes he'd so carefully selected were pulled off in moments, awkwardly twisting against Felix to let him yank off shirt sleeves and trouser legs, his dress shoes a forgotten couple of thuds. Until only the fabric of Ignis' boxer briefs separated him from Felix. He devoured every kiss Felix gave him, tugging at his T-shirt, finally running his hands over bare skin when Felix took the hint and threw it off.

He ground against Felix's cock, gratified that he was just as hard as Ignis. Just as huge as Gladio.

“The bedroom,” Ignis said.

Felix carried Ignis through the door and laid him gently on the bed. He laughed at the array of bottles and packets on the bedside table. “You raid a pharmacy?”

“I didn't know your preference. Your sweatpants. Take them off.”

It was nice to be listened to. Fleix slipped them off and stepped out of them, revealing that he hadn't been wearing underwear. Hardly a sexy striptease – probably only Gladio was ridiculous enough to do such a thing – but it still made Ignis' cock twitch, eyes roving over Felix's broad chest, the downy hair that covered each defined muscle.

He climbed atop Ignis on all fours, looking down at him. “You doing okay there? You look kinda out of it.”

He was... dazed. But not in a bad way. On the precipice of overwhelmed but it was a precipice that he wanted to leap over. “Just... enjoying myself.”

Felix smiled and it wasn't quite Gladio's smile that made the world wobbly underneath him but it was close enough, his lovely dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “You're so fucking hot.” He slid Ignis' boxer briefs down his thighs, pupils swallowing his irises as he took in every inch of new skin. “Seriously, so fucking hot.”

How absurd that it was the words that made Ignis blush and not his nudity. Felix undid him with kisses, chasing out all coherent thought for a while. He sought out Ignis' most sensitive spots; the sides of his neck, the base of his ribs, the V-lines that marked out his pelvis, the insides of his thighs, all tingling with soft lips and the rasp of stubble. Ignis drifted further and further from any lingering self-consciousness, the recriminations that had been his constant companions since the incident with Albus, and gave himself to the pleasure of it.

He gripped Felix's hair and guided him back up his body, squirming him under more kisses, until they were face to face.

“Fuck me,” he said.

Felix flailed out a hand, knocking over so many carefully placed bottles of lube, until he managed to grab one. “How do you want it?”

He had no idea. But he'd scarcely be able to handle the inner workings of Lucian diplomacy if he ever showed ignorance. If Felix knew he was actually a virgin like the glaives had taunted him about, this would seem far more significant than it truly was. That encounter with Gladio and his own experiments had given him enough of a clue what he liked.

“Hard,” he said. “Rough.”

“All right.”

Felix flipped Ignis onto his front. There was some readjusting behind him and then Felix's massive hand pressed his face into the mattress, his palm swallowing Ignis' entire skull. Felix's slippery index finger pushed against his hole and then it was inside.

Ignis moaned into the mattress, trying to sink back into the spread and pressure of it, the way he'd greedily take inch after inch of his toy. But he was only given what Felix chose to mete out, a warning twinge of his neck and shoulders when he tried to resist Felix's grip. The unbearably slow slide of Felix's finger in and out of him. An entire age before he added a second.

Again and again, Ignis pushed against the palm keeping him in place, shaking with the effort of it, moaning so hard drool soaked the mattress beneath him. He knew several techniques to break a hold like this but he kept his resistance to a minimum, revelling in Felix's brute strength at one end, his wonderful, awful teasing fingers at the other, his ears filled with Felix's heavy breathing.

Until he slide his fingers free. “Gods, you're so sensitive.” He brushed the pads of his fingers over Ignis' hole, making him gasp anew. He freed Ignis' head so he could finally lift it, Ignis making a small noise of complaint at the lack of contact.

Which only lasted a moment. Felix sank back onto his knees and caught Ignis' hips, sliding his lubed-up cock between Ignis' buttocks so he had an impression of the length and girth of it. “You sure you can take all this?”

“Please. Now!”

Felix pushed just the tip inside of him and Ignis practically screamed with pleasure as his hole stretched around it.

“ _Oh fuck._ ” Felix pushed another inch inside him. “Oh fuck. You're so fucking tight.”

Ignis' whole body was on fire, every new inch lighting up the synapses of his brain like fireworks, new sensations coruscating up and down his body from his scalp to his toes. All wonderful. Addicting. He pressed back. “Yes. Yes. More.”

“Fuck!”

Felix obliged, filling and filling him. He was huge. Easily the biggest thing Ignis had ever had inside him, stretching him wider than he'd ever been stretched before. Ignis could barely move for the spasms of pure feet-flexing, spine-curling ecstasy that went through him with every new inch. Much better than any inadequate silicone. Warm and pulsing and entering him just right. Until Felix's hips met his buttocks, Felix panting, little aftershocks still going through Ignis. So much. He was so full. He may have gibbered that last bit because Felix chuckled and ruffled his hair.

“You okay?”

He was amazing. Floating. High. “Yes!”

Felix pulled back a little and Ignis clenched, trying to keep that wonderful feeling of fullness a little longer. Felix kept cruelly drawing back.

“Let me know if it's too much,” he said, when Ignis was almost empty.

He grabbed Ignis' shoulders for leverage and slammed back into him. Once. Twice. Again. Setting a rhythm that shook the bedframe. Every time his cock drove back into Ignis it was so good it bordered on agonising. He only lasted a few more, crying out as his orgasm hit.

Felix fucked him through it, drawing it out to the longest he'd ever had. He was delirious and weak-limbed with it, only Felix's hands keeping his hips up while the rest of him was dragged across the bed.

Until Felix's hands clamped around him pinching tight and he groaned, deep voice resonating through Ignis as he pumped him full of come.

 _Gods, that was..._ He should think it awful, degrading, but he didn't. He clenched around Felix, making him shudder and groan. “More.”

“Fuck. Gods.”

Felix thrust again. Slower, this time. Gradually he picked up the pace until he was at full strength again. This was better. So much better than the stress of the last few days. Nothing but bliss and simple needs.

Ignis' whole body shuddered with pleasure as Felix came again, his thighs trembling against the back of Ignis'. He slid free, leaving Ignis' hole gaping to the width of his cock, leaking his come.

Felix flopped onto his back, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Gods, you're a fucking daemon.”

Ignis stretched out beside him, not nearly tired. “Does that mean you won't stay for another round?”

“Give me twenty. Or forty. Or a week. I'm not as young as you.”

“I suppose I'll simply have to entertain myself while I wait.”

Ignis lifted the false bottom off his sock drawer and retrieved his toy. Felix watched him slick it with lube for all of two seconds and then rolled Ignis underneath him. “Let's go again then, daemon.”

***

In considerably better spirits than usual, Ignis went about his business around the citadel. He was sore in the most pleasant way and even the most tedious of his duties was alleviated by the sense memory of Felix's massive cock bringing him to orgasm after orgasm until he'd finally fallen asleep on top of Ignis. He'd been gone by the time Ignis woke up but that didn't matter. He hadn't expected romance.

Everything was fine until Castor spotted him en route from one board room to another and ran over.

“Ignis! I've been looking all over for you.”

Ignis braced himself, ready for another screaming match. 

“Look, I know Pollux is mad at you but I get why you did it. And I just wanted to say I'm not. Mad at you, that is.”

If Ignis had indeed done the thing that Pollux had accused him of, he was sure that would be very reassuring. But at least it meant he had one glaive on his side. Two if he counted Felix. “Thank you, Castor.”

“I was tempted too. I thought maybe the higher-ups would fix it but they can't. Maybe they'd get Albus but the rest of his gang would be out for blood and there's never any proof and maybe it's just easier to...”

“To what?”

“Never mind. Just rambling. Anyway, don't be too hard on yourself, okay? Pollux'll get over it. You were just trying to help.”

***

Ignis worked through his morning stretch routine. Flexibility was important to his fighting style, and it always helped with the soreness after Cor's punishing drills later on. He had optimised it over years of practise, giving equal attention to all primary and secondary muscle groups while not compromising efficiency. Now it was so rote that it allowed his mind to wander. Hostile though the training halls were, he was gaining strength and skill, and now could heal not only himself but everyone around him over a very close range. Useful for times where he would inevitably be fighting alongside Gladio and Noct. He'd added daemonology to his studies and had begun the process of learning which magical element was most effective against which, incorporating them into his fighting style. He could now charge his own daggers with the appropriate element and was working towards being able to do the same to his allies' weapons. Gladio's greatsword would fell any human opponent but would do little against an iron giant without some extra _oomph_.

Ignis transitioned into a shoulder stand, noting a knot of tension in his spine. His phone beeped several times. Ignis rolled out of it. His phone rang as his fingers closed around it.

“Good morning?”

“I fucked up, Iggy. Shit, I really fucked up bad.”

“Gladio? I'm sure everything will be all right. Now take a breath and tell me what's happened.”

“It won't-- It's not gonna be all right. It's Castor.”

Ignis' entire body froze. Distantly, he heard himself say. “What happened to Castor?”

A silence filled with Gladio's heavy breathing. Then, a tight, choked “Attacked.” Before Ignis could press for more details, Gladio let out another shuddering breath. “It's bad. He's alive but they said maybe some nerve damage. They... uh... they branded him. Pollux found him piss drunk and with all his clothes ripped off and – fuck – stuff carved into his back.”

“Stuff?” His voice sounded like it was coming from the opposite end of a long tunnel.

“Let's... leave it at stuff. It gets worse. It's my fault. All my fucking fault. I thought-- Shit. It's so stupid. I thought if I told Cor he'd fix everything but he told me he needed either evidence or for Pollux or Castor to outright accuse Albus. But he still musta given Albus a talking to. All my fault.”

“You couldn't have known this would happen.”

“Yeah but I knew Pollux wouldn't have wanted me running to Cor, didn't I? And there's still no fucking evidence. Castor won't tell anyone who did this to him. Shit, Iggy. How do I fix this?”

How indeed? “I don't know, Gladio.”

A shuddery few breaths resounded down the phone. “I-- I dunno what else they did. Why they stripped him. Gods, Iggy--” More strangled breaths, like Gladio was breathing sand. “Gods-- I--”

Ignis tightened his grip on his phone so it didn't fall from his trembling hand. Of course it wasn't Gladio's fault, it was the animals who did this to Castor, but that seemed a woefully inadequate thing to say as Gladio's gasps turned to sobs. “Where are you, Gladio?”

Gladio managed to exhale something that sounded like 'library'.

“The library? Stay there. I'm coming to get you.”


	11. Chapter 11

Gladio had retreated to the most secluded part of the library, one of the restricted areas only accessible by keycard that held their most valuable tomes, all to do with the Lucis Caelum lineage. Ignis was a regular there. Partly out of necessity but also because a young Noct had liked to hear the stories of his ancestors or at least the more accessible retelling of them that Ignis gave him. In the past, Ignis had scoured the huge, heavy books for more stories. In the present, Gladio was hunched over the circular table in the centre of the room, both hands gripping the back of his neck. He dragged his fingers back and forth across the stubble of his undercut.

“Iggy,” he said, not moving. “I can't believe how bad I fucked this up.”

Ignis rubbed the space between his bunched shoulder blades. That too seemed paltry but it was the only thing in his arsenal. _Pat pat. There there._ “You were only trying to help,” he said, repeating what Castor had said before he was attacked.

“I need to see him.”

“I don't believe that's a good idea, Gladio.”

“I _need_ to, Iggy.”

“All right...”

It was a moment's work to check the records. Castor had been transferred to the main hospital in the citadel once he'd been stabilised for a blood transfusion and was now recovering there. It was long past visiting hours but none of the overworked hospital staff were going to risk their jobs by stalling the prince's shield or adviser. They headed directly to Castor's room with only a wayward glance or two.

“ _What the fuck are you doing here?_ ”

That was Pollux, practically leaping from the uncomfortable folding bed he had been sleeping on. He grabbed Ignis by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall. Pollux had not distinguished himself in any type of combat and was a little smaller than Ignis besides, but Ignis allowed it to happen.

“You've done enough!”

“Pollux!” Gladio yelled, followed by a fainter echo. Gods, Castor. Castor was trying to call Pollux off too

Ignis stayed perfectly still. The best strategy was not to do anything that might antagonise him further. Pollux shook him.

“Pollux,” Gladio hissed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Fuck off, Gladio. He told Cor. All this– This is because of him."

"You think Iggy told Cor?"

“Yes,” Ignis said quickly. “Because I did. And it isn't my fault nor Cor's nor anyone but Albus'. And whichever members of his gang participated.”

“Fuck you!” Pollux dropped him. Ignis made the mistake of relaxing, only to be punched so hard he spun into the wall.

“Hey!” Gladio stepped in front of Ignis. “That gonna make you feel better, huh? Starting a fight right here? Getting thrown out so's you can't see Castor til he's discharged?"

“Nothing's gonna make me feel better!”

“Pollux.” It took them all a moment to realise that Castor had been trying to get their attention, his voice was so faint. “Pollux. Pol.”

Pollux immediately softened and rushed to Castor's bedside. “Yeah?”

“Get me a drink? Please.”

Pollux glanced at the jug of water by Castor's bedside.

“Colder.”

“I'm not--”

“Please. My throat hurts.”

Pollux left the room with one last glare at Ignis, allowing them finally to get a proper look at Castor. He was so pale his freckles looked black. He was lying on his front, pillows propped up beneath him –- Pollux's bed was entirely bare of them, Ignis noticed –- and his back was covered in bandages, spotted in places.

“I don't blame you,” Castor said. “I don't want a fight, just...” He lay his face back down, turning his head so he could speak without being muffled. “Cor interrogated Albus for hours. I knew he'd be bad and I didn't want him to find Pol first, so I...”

“Gods, Castor.” Gladio hovered a few steps away from Castor's bed, inching closer and then creeping back. “Why didn't you tell me? I coulda protected you. Both of you. I coulda--”

“Don't. You couldn't have done anything to stop that many glaives either and you know it. I didn't want anyone else to get hurt.”

“This is a fucking shit show! You nearly fucking died!”

“Please, Gladio. I'm tired of shouting. Can I talk to Ignis on his own?"

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want.”

Ignis took the seat by Castor's bed, trusting Gladio to stall Pollux for as long as Castor would like to talk. He poured him a glass of water and handed it over, sure that the sore throat hadn't entirely been an act. “Yes?” he asked, as Castor sipped it.

“I thought if I let Albus and his friends fuck me then they'd stop,” Castor said and barrelled past Ignis' horrified expression to continue. “Pollux doesn't know about that bit. He'd freak out. More, I mean. I was ready to let them too if it meant they'd leave Pollux alone but I got there and I just... couldn't. They were all looking at me like that's what they'd expected and I knew it wouldn't be-- It's not like I haven't slept with that many guys before. It's not a big deal."

Ignis took the empty glass and set it on the table. He clasped both of Castor's hands in his. “You don't have to tell me this.”

“Please. Just listen. You're the only one I can tell.”

Ignis nodded. There were no words he could say that would be enough.

“I sleep with the guys in the barracks sometimes. Pollux doesn't know about that either, by the way. He still thinks I'm a nerdy thirteen-year-old and he needs to protect me from the bigger boys even though we're the same size. More sex is... no big deal. Like I said. But Albus and his... his friends... I knew they'd make it bad. As bad as it could be. And they'd be rough. And they'd act like just because I said yes to some of it, anything went, and they'd tell me I liked it even if I didn't like when... Like the spin the bottle stuff when they got me drunk. I chickened out but they acted like since I was there anyway and since I got tongue-tied and wasn't saying anything--”

It took him a while to find his voice again.

“I kinda went somewhere else for a bit and when I was back Mensa was trying to get the rest of my clothes off and I fought back. I used fire. I think I took most of the skin on his chest. It's all blurry but I know I was trying to burn anyone who got near me, but there were too many of them. I screamed at them not to touch me and they didn't... Not-not like that at least. That's why they did the rest of it, I think. To punish me for not letting them... I shouldn't have fought. I should've just taken it. They won't stop now because I fought them and they'll-- they'll hurt Pollux. So this is all for nothing.”

“Castor...”

Castor half-climbed into Ignis' lap, trailing intravenous wires. Ignis held him carefully, avoiding touching his back at all. He'd hugged Noct like this many times when they were both small, after the daemon attack. Noct's lower body still on the bed while the rest of him clung to Ignis. Ignis felt as helpless now as he had then, watching Noct fight his own body. A bystander.

“I should've let them...”

“No,” Ignis said, holding Castor as firmly as he dared. “You did the right thing.” They'd never have stopped going after Pollux. Manipulating what they wanted out of Castor would only have emboldened them. “And you have nothing, absolutely nothing, to feel guilty about.”

They stayed like that for a while. Ignis tactfully did not mention the dampness of his shirt where Castor had buried his face. Eventually, he eased back onto the bed.

“May I examine your back?” Ignis asked.

“The doctors already did.”

Ignis summoned an elixir into his hand. He was sure Noct wouldn't begrudge its absence, not for this. “Slightly more effective than stitches.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

As gently as humanly possible, Ignis peeled away the bandages. He kept his own reaction to a wince at the words carved into Castor's skin. _Slut. Bitch. Whore. Hole._ And worse. This was it after treatment. What must poor Pollux have seen when he discovered his brother, bleeding to death where they'd left him? “It-- It won't erase them completely.” Noct still had a scar and a limp. Even the ancient magic of the kingdom had limitations.

“That's okay.”

Ignis smashed the elixir over Castor's back. He sighed softly as the skin knitted, pushing the stitches out, leaving raised red and white lines where gouges had been a moment before. Some of the words became illegible. Some did not. “They should be able to offer you skin grafts for the rest.” He couldn't walk around with those words etched into his skin forever. It was unthinkable.

“What does it say?”

“Castor--”

“No one would tell me, not even Pollux, and they wouldn't let me near a mirror. I can guess some of it but it's my body. I want to know.”

Ignis stumbled over words he would never say in any other circumstance. “Those are the only ones still legible.”

“Yeah, that's pretty much what I thought.”

“None of it is-- None of that is true.”

Castor smiled, weakly. “I know. It's okay. I know you don't think like that. At least I burned some of them. A lot of them, actually. One of them can heal but it's weak.”

“Would you recognise them if you saw them again?”

Castor shook his head. “It doesn't matter. Leave them alone, Ignis. It won't be me they hurt next time. It'll be Pollux. Or you. Or Gladio. Just make sure everyone stays away from Albus. I don't know what they'll do next time. Please don't make it worse.”

***

Ignis left Castor to sleep. The conversation had obviously drained him and it was late. Ignis informed the receptionist of the extra treatment and ensured she updated all of the relevant information. There was no sign of either Gladio or Pollux.

Ignis combed the halls of the hospital, trying not to break into a run.

_It won't be me next time._

_Gladio._

The sensible part of his brain insisted that the hospital was safe, that no one would be allowed to cause trouble there, but his heart still pumped his blood far too hard so he fancied he could feel it roaring through his veins. He was ready to summon his daggers at the faintest noise.

He found them in the underground car park. Gladio had Pollux in a combined arm and leg lock. They were hidden between the car Ignis had driven here in and the one beside it. The force of Pollux's struggle made them rock between the side doors of each.

“You need to calm down!”

“Fuck you, Amicitia!”

Ignis approached them carefully. “What's going on here?”

Pollux redoubled his struggles but was unable to break Gladio's hold. He stilled. “This asshole came clean about being the one who ran to Cor. He's the one who got Castor in this state!”

“Albus and his associates did this to Castor,” Ignis said. “They would have done something like this with or without Cor's involvement. They were simply waiting for an opportunity.”

“That's bullshit! It was all ass-slaps and come-ones before you rich assholes got involved.”

“I found you beaten half to death long before I was ever involved. Why did they beat you?”

“Because I wouldn't let them fuck me, all right?! You happy now? Cause I didn't want half a dozen assholes nailing me to the floor. Satisfied?”

“I am they very opposite of satisfied.”

“Gods,” Gladio said, faintly. “Why didn't you tell anyone?”

“You saw what happened to Castor, dumbass. They said they'd-- If I told anyone, they said they'd fuck him instead and they wouldn't ask his permission either.”

“Cor needs to know about this. All of it.”

“Are you fucking serious? Cor couldn't do dick!"

“Cause he didn't know what was happening. If you'd told him everything we could have protected you both.”

As Gladio relaxed, Pollux jabbed his elbow into his solar plexus and sprang out of his grip. “You can't protect shit! Just fucking-- fuck off Amicitia! It's not your Royal Shield ass or your brother's they're after and there's not a damn thing you or the nerd can do about it. You two think your bosses and your daddies can fix everything but they can't. We're fucking cannon fodder and everyone knows it. They're not gonna exile cannon fodder for the sake of other cannon fodder! Just fucking stay out of this, both of you!”

Pollux stormed away, shoulder-checking Ignis on his way past. Gladio slumped against the car door.

“That coulda went better,” he said.

“Indeed.”

“There's gotta be a way to un-fuck this, Iggy. Even if Castor and Pollux aren't gonna talk.”

“For now, we'll simply have to keep an eye on them.”

“Yeah.” Gladio stood up and dusted off the back of his trousers. “Yeah, can do.”

***

If there was one thing Ignis was used to, it was multitasking. While the observable part of him was going about his regularly duties, the rest of him worried away at the issue. He could frame Albus and his lackeys for another crime. Dismissed because no matter how carefully planned it, there was still the possibility of getting caught and stripped of his duties as royal adviser. He could entrap them the way he'd entrapped Eldridge. Warranted further consideration. He could kill every last one of them so that they never laid their filthy hands on anyone ever again. Desirable, but he'd still go to prison.

Currently, the observable part of him was cooking Noctis' evening meal and since Prompto was hanging around he was making enough for all three of them. Until a more permanent solution presented itself, he'd asked Felix to keep an eye out for Pollux. He'd agreed easily. He would probably have agreed to anything Ignis asked of him since their tryst.

“Something's burning!” Noct's voice called from the sofa.

“My sauce!”

It was salvageable, although the base of the pan would need to be scoured. He dished up the chickatrice breast, sauce, and new potatoes to a ravenous Noct and Prompto before taking his own plate.

“Do potatoes count as a vegetable?” Noct asked.

“Technically, yes, although they are low in nutritional value.” Ignis heaped steamed veg onto his and Prompto's plate, leaving Noct's. He didn't have the energy for that particular battle of wills this evening.

“Thought so. Too good.”

Ignis only managed to get a couple of bites in before his phone rang. “Excuse me.” He lifted it to his ear as he headed to the bathroom to take it. Cries of _sit down, Specs_ and _eat! Eat!_ followed him out of the room.

“So I'm on security detail for the Duscaen delegation,” Gladio said, in Ignis' ear. “You wanna tell me why this Ambassador Eldridge guy is up my ass?”

Oh. Ignis had quite forgotten about all of that. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. “What is he doing?”

“Bossing me around, making digs at my intelligence any chance he gets, accidentally-on-purpose spilled hot coffee on me. Seemed pretty convinced you'd have my uniform dry-cleaned for me for some reason.”

“Ah. That would be because I told him you're my partner.”

“Are you kidding me? Why'd you tell him something like that?”

“He was... making advances.”

Gladio was silent for a beat. “Want me to push the old creep down the stairs? He's old, no one'll ever know he didn't fall.”

“And waste our symbolic seeds? I think not.”

Gladio laughed. “All right, but if he leers at my ass one more time I'm shoving those seeds where the sun don't shine.”

“Gladio, a lack of sunlight is very bad for seeds.”

Another huff of a laugh. “Hey Iggy, can we talk when we're both next free? In person, I mean.”

“Of course. We have a lot to discuss.”

***

The locker room was the least pleasant place in the Citadel, as usual. Pollux was now giving both Ignis and Gladio the cold shoulder. Although it hadn't affected Gladio's popularity in the slightest, he was simply folded into another group of laughing glaives. Since Castor had said he'd burned some of his assailants, Ignis observed. Who was moving gingerly? Who was covering up more than usual? Why was Albus marching toward Felix with a grin on his face?

“Here.” Albus held out a fistful of money, while Felix stared at it, his confusion apparent. “Thought you deserved a cut since you settled the bet.”

“What bet?”

“You know, about why got to pop Scientia's cherry.”

Ignis froze. Gladio waded toward them. Pollux slammed his locker door shut. Felix reacted first. He lifted Albus off his feet by his throat. Albus' eyes bulged. His feet kicked. Electricity crackled across his fingers as he clawed at Felix's hand but it met a coating of frost that spread halfway up Felix's arm. Ice armour?

“Listen here, you little shit,” Felix said. “You leave me out of whatever you and your moron squad are up to or I'll--”

“Or you'll what, Felix?”

That was Cor. He had to have been nearby to have arrived so quickly. Probably lurking outside the door.

With obvious reluctance, Felix dropped Albus. He landed in a crouch, clutching at his throat still. Cor fixed them all with a stern look that encompassed the staring glaives, Gladio still mid-step, Pollux too, and the money littered around Albus' feet.

“My office, you two. The rest of you, get to work.”

***

“I assumed you'd be hungry,” Ignis said, presenting Gladio was a massive garula rib steak, braised Leiden potatoes, and a healthy helping of steamed veg.

Gladio took the plate eagerly. “You're the best!” He'd certainly changed his tune. “You not having anything?” 

“I've eaten.”

He was fairly certain that watching Gladio demolish the meal shouldn't have been as appealing as it was. But Gladio always wore hardly anything and the way each movement made the muscles of his massive arms flex and bunch was powerfully distracting. As was the way he licked each of his fingers clean.

“Is there dessert?”

“Cheeky.” But Ignis still retrieved the slice of cinder toffee cake from the fridge and topped it with a scoop of honeycomb ice cream. He set it down in front of Gladio on the counter.

“Man, I missed this.”

And whose fault was that?

Gladio set down his spoon on the side of the plate. “Did you sleep with Felix?”

“Is that really what you wish to discuss?”

He resumed demolishing the cake. “Kinda.”

“Yes, I did sleep with Felix. Not that it should matter to you.”

“It doesn't! Just surprised. Wouldn'ta taken you for a one night stand guy.”

“Isn't that what you were?”

Gladio dropped his spoon with a tiny little _ting_. “Okay. I'm sorry for being an asshole. I really don't care who you sleep with, if that's what you want. Hell, I've slept with Felix tonnes of times. And Pollux. Castor once, too.”

“Anyone else?” Ignis said, sarcastically.

“Fortio. And--”

“I don't need a list of your conquests, thank you.”

“Shit, Iggy. What do you need? I thought we were cool now?”

“You _abandoned_ me.” To Albus. To that awful humiliating incident in the showers. To the blatant sexual overtures of any of the glaives. To being ordered to give- give blow jobs to men he despised _or else_.

“Did Albus do something to you too?”

“No!”

“Iggy...” Gladio was standing close to him now, although hesitant to touch him. “Shit. He did, didn't he? You've been acting so weird. I thought it was stress but you're always stressed. Shoulda known better. Shoulda known about Albus too.” Gladio folded Ignis into a hug, burying his face in his huge chest. Ignis hadn't realised he was trembling until Gladio squeezed him with the upmost care, treating him as if he was as delicate as an eggshell. “It's okay, Iggy. It's gonna be okay.”

Ignis shoved him away. “I don't need you to console me!”

Yet again, Ignis reflected that it was unfair that a man Gladio's size could do such a good job of looking pitiful. Like a large, floppy dog that had been scolded for climbing on its owner's bed. “Come on, Iggy. I know how tough you are. You don't have to front it out for me.”

“That's easy for you to say!”

“Doesn't seem like it from where I'm standing.”

“No one thinks you're weak! A target. A--” Ignis slowly retracted the finger he'd been jabbing in Gladio's face. He was aware of how erratic he was behaving but he couldn't seem to stop. “The glaives treated me like a thing from the moment they saw me.”

“Why do you care so much what those dumbasses think of you?”

“Those are the soldiers of our kingdom.”

__“Not yet, they aren't. And even if they were.,. I'd trust some of 'em with my life but the ones like Albus? They don't matter. Look what they did to Castor. You gonna measure yourself by what people like that think of you?”__

____

____

It made sense. Gladio was right. But his nerves had been frayed for so long the idea that he was prey was ingrained. “I don't know how to stop this, Gladio.”

“Yeah, me neither. But that's okay. It's not up to us to fix everything. What we can do is make sure Albus and his merry band of morons don't get their hands on Pollux. Cor's onto them, so that's a start.”

“I had some thoughts on that.” Ignis pulled out his cafetière. If they were going to discuss this, then they'd need a pot of coffee. “Yes?” Gladio was staring.

“Nothing. Just expected one wall to slide open revealing one of those white boards with everything linked up with red strings.”

“Don't be absurd.” Ignis had a brainstorming document on his laptop which he could update via his mobile phone. “I procured both Pollux's and Albus' schedules and have made sure there are as few overlaps as possible. Felix has assured me he'll be watching over him in both the barracks and the showers.” Due to a great deal of meddling, Albus and all of his known lackies, were assigned tasks on the opposite side of the Citadel to Pollux as far as possible.

“I'm gonna train him some too.” Gladio grinned and swiped a sip of the cup of coffee Ignis had painstakingly prepared for himself. He gave it back, laughing, at Ignis' murderous look. “He wants to punch me so bad it won't take much to convince him.”

“That's not a bad idea. If we could train both Pollux and Castor to fight as a unit, they'd be less vulnerable.”

“Those two are always together anyway, when one of them's not injured. Felix'd probably be up for it too. Pollux is the weak link there, if you ask me. He just doesn't get the magic stuff.”

“Doesn't that mean you are the weak link in our triumvirate?” While Noct's command of his magic only continued to grow, and Ignis' was coming along nicely, Gladio was still yet to master any of the elements.

“I make up for it with my sword techniques and you love them. Trouble is Pollux's combat's pretty dire too.”

A weak link indeed. But that was what training was for. Transforming weakness into strength.


	12. Chapter 12

Broaching the subject of extra training with Castor was the easiest of the two options. Ignis didn't envy Gladio having to convince a still very angry Pollux to join them. Ignis had taken to visiting Castor at least twice a week. Often they sat in companionable silence while Castor read and Ignis worked. Today, Castor was pacing around the room.

“Feeling better?” Ignis asked.

“Yeah. Check this out.” Castor spread his fingers, each tipped with a small flame. They winked on and off from his thumb to his little finger, going from red to blue tipped, raising the temperature in the room as they did. “If Albus comes near Pollux, I'll scorch his face off.”

“Excellent control.” Indeed. Cor would be very impressed. “How's your prognosis?”

“The nerves in my back that got damaged won't get better. But it's just gonna cause numbness there and it's not anywhere too painful or that'll limit my mobility. It won't stop me from fighting.”

That was as good a segue as any. “Gladio and I were wondering if you'd like to join us for some extra training once you've recovered."

"Anything that'll help me beat Albus to a pulp.”

###

Under Cor's watchful eye, the glaives were on their best behaviour. Cor even joined them in the changing rooms, standing in a corner with his arms crossed, looking bored. Ignis hadn't heard an untoward comment in weeks. The glaives were also more motivated than ever. Now at the point where they could choose a weapon to specialise in, they still practised with a variety, but aimed for mastery with their primary and secondary weapons. Ignis and Gladio, who had trained since they were old enough to walk, already had their fighting styles cemented but others (like Pollux) were still experimenting.

Some of the others had already distinguished themselves. One of whom was Felix, who fought with a devastating combination of ice and a large, curved sword, often coating his entire body in the sheen of ice that Ignis had glimpsed briefly when he protected himself from Albus' electricity magic. His secondary weapons were a pair of kais, only ever seen on the rare occasions someone got closer than sword length.

Unfortunately, Albus was also proving himself quite adept. A slim sword allowed him to pinpoint his electricity to areas of his opponent's body and a pouch of ball bearings allowed him to throw it.

As always, Gladio was a one man army, frequently knocking a wide circle of glaives to their knees with sweeps of his greatsword or smashes of his shield. Ignis learned to compensate for that after the first time, by ensuring he wasn't touching the ground when Gladio struck.

For Ignis' part, he could transition smoothly between vaulting with his lance and attacking with his daggers and bolster them with whichever element was most appropriate. 

When Castor returned, he fared well. He threw fiery daggers and fought at close range with an extendable quarter staff, making him a passable opponent, though he lacked the brute force of some of his peers. Only Pollux was truly struggling.

He often abandoned his weapons entirely – a different one each time – to fight with his bare fists. A technique that most often got him batted away like a fly.

“Healers, to me,” Cor said one day after they'd finished their drills. Ignis, along with half a dozen of the others, joined him. “Only seven of you, huh?”

Ignis gave them a once-over too. Castor had said one of the glaives who'd attacked him was a healer. He dismissed the two women as suspects, since Albus didn't seem to associate with women at all. A fact which all of womankind was surely grateful for. The rest, he kept an eye on.

“Listen up,” Cor yelled across the training hall. “This'll save your lives. Protect your healers. Potions run out. So long as you keep them safe, healers last. That's your exercise for today.”

Cor walked around the room, slapping stickers onto around half of the glaives. Gladio's chest – never far from Ignis' thoughts – was now emblazoned with a large sticker that read IRON GIANT.

“Your test for today. Most of you are enemies. The rest of you are what passes for glaives around here. Magitek troupers.” Some of the glaives looked up. “Fight smart. They'll prioritise taking down the healers. Daemons kill indiscriminately. You lot aren't to use weapons offensively or attack magic. I don't want this place razed to the ground. Today, you fight with these.”

Cor pulled a paint bomb from the arsenal. “Daemons and magitek, you have red paint. Glaives, you have blue. Healers, yours are white. Any glaive hit by red paint is out of action is out of action until a healer hits them with white. Anyone hit by blue paint is out. Get into position.”

The glaives were well-trained enough to take up a formation with the healers in the centre. They were heavily outnumbered, as they tended to be in the field. Human soldiers were finite but magiteks were not. Ignis' mind raced through the possibilities. If offensive magic and weaponry was out, that should mean that they were still allowed to use support abilities. 

“Begin!”

“Prioritise the magitek troupers!” Ignis yelled, as both groups advanced. He used what he'd been calling Mark to pinpoint every magitek in the vicinity. His marks were followed by several precision blue paintballs. That had to have been Albus with all that practise with his ball bearings.

There was an initial bombardment from both sides but they'd each been expecting it and only an unlucky few fell in it. The rest were batted away or dodged. They couldn't stay huddled like this, where a couple of lucky shots would annihilate all of them.

“We need to divide them!”

“He's right.” That was Albus again, of all people. “Split into teams, one healer each.”

Exactly what Ignis was going to suggest. He detached from the larger group, some of the glaives following him. With distance he could observe the greatest threats. The magitek troupers remained a priority but Gladio was a concern too. He made a huge target but proved impossible to hit. He deflected paintballs with his shield, protecting not only himself but others in the daemon-magitek group too. Anyone who did manage to get close was dispatched with a paintball at a range of inches. Those who had chosen to stay on the front lines were quickly overwhelmed, the magiteks flowing around him to take care of the healers while he annihilated the rest.

“What's our best move, Ignis?” Castor asked from beside him, while their group retreated.

“Ranged fighters to the fore. Thin their numbers. Everyone else focus on deflecting the paintballs from them. I'll heal whoever gets hit. And keep moving. We need to try and revive some of the others.”

It split Ignis' attention between the battle going on around them and the glaives in front but he was confident he could keep up. The main daemon-magitek force was preoccupied with another group, having decided quite correctly that their numbers would serve them best attacking the smaller groups one by one.

Castor excelled himself. He must have been practising with his throwing knives, for he lobbed several paint balls in perfect arcs that landed on the heads of unsuspecting magiteks. The other ranged fighters were decent too, scoring a few body shots.

It did as planned, distracting enough of the daemon-magitek group to split them up. “Time to rescue our allies.” Though they'd succeeded in splitting them up, they'd taken out three more healer-glaive groups.

“How?” one of the glaives said, as Gladio and two dozen others bore down on them.

“Ranged fighters to the back. On my mark.”

He used Mark to pick out Gladio's body from every angle. The enemy was using him as both cover and a battering ram and he needed to be dealt with. He was bombarded from so many angles even his shield couldn't help him. That took care of one of them but they were still vastly outnumbered. Four ranged fighters. The remaining four close range. If they could just reach the rest of the fallen glaives, they could gain the advantage again.

Ignis Marked the magiteks again, leaving them to the ranged fighters. Two of his team were hit but they were back up in seconds, so close the paintballs barely needed to leave his hands. The attackers kept throwing red paint over the top of his group, trying to hit Ignis in the centre. Ignis speared the ones that weren't deflected with his lance, tossing them away.

They whittled them down to ten, then the remaining daemon-magitek groups joined them. There were around thirty and only one other healer-glaive group left which was quickly succumbing.

They put up an admirable fight but after Ignis failed to see a paintball aimed at his back, they were done for.

“Congratulations,” Cor said after he'd called an end to the exercise. “No survivors.”

###

They got better at the exercise every time they repeated it. Which was to say they didn't lose as quickly. It didn't seem to matter who was on which team. The results were always the same. The glaives lost. The daemons won.

“Well?” Cor said, after he'd declared no survivors for what must have been the dozenth time. “Any of you got anything to say for yourselves?”

“Initially it would seem that we have the advantage, sir,” Ignis said. As a healer, he was always on the same side.

“And why's that?”

“Because once the enemy is defeated, they remain defeated, whereas in theory we have infinite chances to defeat them so long as one healer remains alive.”

“Correct. So why do we keep losing?”

“The healers don't protect themselves,” Gladio said. Which was a very Gladio answer. He would prefer everyone he had to protect to stay far away from trouble. “They focus on fixing up everyone else but since they're so important, it's better that they keep themselves outta the way.”

“No. I see the logic, but no. A healer who only protects themselves is no kind of healer. They do what they can to minimise the risk – stay out of the front lines, make sure no one sneaks up on 'em – but protecting the healers is your job. Anyone got any other ideas?”

The glaives were quiet for a little while.

“We're badly outnumbered,” someone suggested.

“You'll stay that way. That's how it is outside the wall. Daemons only stop spawning once daylight hits and magiteks don't stop at all. You'll fight three squads and then when you think it's over and you're tending to your wounded, another dropship'll spill thirty more on your head. I don't need to tell most of you what happens when they get past you and into where the civilians live.”

There was another silence. This one heavier. _They're all refugees. All except Gladio and I._ No wonder they were so bitter about Ignis' presence. He knew, academically, what fate befell the territories outside of the wall. But he hadn't even asked where Castor and Pollux were from.

“No more answers?” Cor said. “Fine. They won't do you any good. This ain't theory. It's action. Right now, the daemons are winning. So what are you all going to do about it?”

###

Gladio joined Ignis in his apartment after their latest training session with yet another no survivors result. It was later in the evening and Ignis would have collapsed into bed if he hadn't had a guest.

“Rough stuff there, huh?” Gladio said.

“The mortality rate for kingsglaive after their first few missions is actually very low.”

“Yeah? And during their first few missions?”

His silence should have been answer enough but Gladio wasn't entirely ignorant of political manoeuvring. He knew better than to let someone avoid an answer they knew was compromising. “It's... high.”

“Great.”

“They-- _we_ are improving at least.” On top of this exercise Cor was calling in extra training sessions hence this one in the evening and making their drills harder than ever. Ignis, no stranger to long days and intense training to begin with, ached in places he didn't know he could ache. Gladio was throwing off his shirt more often than usual, sweat slicking his entire body and spilling from the ends of his hair. Outside of training, he was also dogging Ignis' steps. Ignis hadn't showered after this session, so Gladio hadn't either. Ignis had headed for his rooms in the citadel since they were closer, so Gladio had followed him.

Perhaps he should have a quick shower before he retired. But he'd made the mistake of sitting down and his body demanded that he stayed there to rest. Plus, Gladio had taken the chair opposite him and he was still shirtless, a towel draped around his neck and _his pecs were the size of Ignis' head_.

“I should shower,” Ignis said, in an attempt to motivate himself.

“You and me both.”

“Both?”

Gladio was already rising from his seat. He stopped in an awkward half-squat above the chair. “Do you mean what I think you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Iggy...” Gladio sat back down. This was already going in the wrong direction. “I want to. Boy, do I want to. But...”

But they hadn't shared anything except heated glances since that first time in the alleyway. But Albus was only at bay temporarily, Ignis was sure of that. But they were all so busy and stressed out the only thing they should be doing in bed was sleeping. But--

“I don't want things to get weird between us again. After last time-- That sucked. I'd rather have you as a friend than nothing.”

“I hardly see how some casual--”

“Don't. We both know there's not gonna be anything casual about this. You've put your heart and soul into everything you've ever done and I'm not gonna be the first thing where you don't.”

“Felix wasn't--”

“A guy you barely know? No way was that the same as this. We've known each other since we were kids. Been orbiting around Noct together since then too. And that's a bond no one else is ever gonna have. You and me, we go the distance, or we go nowhere, for all our sakes.”

“That's quite the speech, Gladio.”

“No. You're not-- No deflections. We're gonna talk about this, this time.”

 _About what?_ was on the tip of Ignis' tongue but he stopped that foolishness before he voiced it. His hands were clawed on the arms of the armchair so he removed them finger by finger. “Must we? Let this progress naturally and see where it takes us.”

“Cause you're such a laissez-faire kinda guy?”

Why couldn't this have been like with Felix? That had been so easy. No transition from friends or colleagues to navigate, just pure physical attraction. “And I'm to accept that you're suddenly a hearts and flowers romantic? You, who rattled off a list of conquests the other day as if they were footnotes in your life?”

“I don't think of them as footnotes. Look, I get it. You don't wanna be vulnerable. It's hard for me too.”

Ignis scoffed. “If you show vulnerability, you're called a gentle giant. When I do, it's used to unman me.”

“And when I show aggression I'm a dangerous thug, no matter how justified it is. You're not the only one who deals with this stuff, Iggy.”

He could leave the room. Have his shower. Surely Gladio wouldn't linger until he was finished. Gladio had his own duties to attend to, generally more physical than Ignis'. He needed his rest too. Terrible, beautiful, insightful Gladio, under whose gaze Ignis felt much more exposed than when he was forced to change in the communal changing room. The urge to flee was so strong he thought his clothes might burn off with the tension of it. Instead, he forced himself to lock eyes with Gladio.

“What if I give you everything and it goes badly?”

Gladio shrugged, like Titan moving the continents. “If that happens, then we deal with it. It might be strained for a while but we're stuck with each other for life, whatever happens. We'll sort our shit out. And I won't give you less than my everything right back.”

“Gladio...”

“I'll let you think about it, huh?” Gladio left Ignis with only the faint scent of his fresh sweat and the impression of his body in the chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your comments on the last chapter. I'm having a flare-up and super busy so I'm not going to get a chance to reply to them individually until I feel better but I truly appreciate every one. <3


	13. Chapter 13

Ignis had to touch himself in the shower just to get Gladio out of his system so he could sleep. He'd tried to distract himself with images of Felix but Gladio always edged those out and it wasn't as if Ignis could avoid him. Not only were their work lives interwined but they'd arranged the extra training at the Amicitia household very early in the morning since it was the only time that worked for all of their schedules.

After centuries of training the Lucis Caelums, their facilities were fireproof, earthed against electrical discharges, could have the temperature rapidly adjusted, and sturdy enough for the massive Shields to rampage in. Castor and Felix's attendance had been a given, but Pollux had came along too. Perhaps he really was just eager for a chance to punch Gladio.

“I'm pleased you could come,” Ignis said to Pollux, as Gladio slung his arms around Castor's and Felix's shoulders. Those physical greetings were common among the glaives but when Ignis tried to do the same, it had come across as awkward and forced and only served to make everyone uncomfortable. So he would give handshakes at the very most.

“I'm not here out of politeness,” Pollux said. “I'm here because I suck.”

“You... suck?”

“At being a glaive.”

“Everyone struggles to begin with/”

“This isn't to begin with. Cor's been riding my ass every day and I still suck. I can't use any magic. Some of the other guys are doing that blue flashy thing that the king does and I'm not even as good as Albus' gang.”

Ignis had to admit that loathsome that they were, the group of glaives Albus surrounded himself with were showing great aptitude for the training. “You don't necessarily have to fight with magic.”

“But it's so cool!” Castor said, producing several flames and juggling them. A heat haze distorted his face as he made them blue-tipped and spun them like a Catherine wheel. “Did you see what Felix can do?”

 _Very helpful, Castor, thank you._ “What is it that you struggle with when using magic, Pollux?”

“All of it!”

“It's too much.” That was Gladio, dropping into the conversation while ignoring Pollux's glare. “There's some kinda freaky Astrals-using-your-body-as-a-vessel shit that goes down. I dunno how Noct and King Regis stand having that pouring into them all the time.”

Ignis had always found that sensation reassuring. Becoming but one facet of the kingdom with the backup of gods and rulers past.

“I love it,” Felix said, encasing his entire arm in shimmering ice. “Shiva's my girl. Dunno what Ramuh's thinking with Albus, though.”

“Only the oracles are in direct communion with the gods,” Ignis said. Blasphemy and the casual questioning of the gods' motives was one thing when they communicated only through holy books but when their gods could walk among them, it was best not to say anything about them. “They aren't granting us any favours. We are merely being permitted some of the blessings of the Lucis Caelum line.”

“Well, they can all stay outta my head,” Pollux said.

“Don't you want to do this?” Castor made flames dance around Pollux, then let them gutter out under his glower. “Cheer up! Gladio doesn't use magic either.”

“Gladio's a fucking behemoth.”

It was true that Castor and Pollux were more on the wiry side. They were at the peak of physical fitness, already athletic when they'd joined the kingsglaive and whipped into the best shape of their lives by Cor but they were still slender. Much more suited to fighting with magic than with brute force.

“What are your strengths?” Ignis asked. Support roles were also important in a battlefield.

“I dunno. Picturing Cor naked when he's yelling at me?”

“He's fast,” Castor said. “Really fast.”

“Yeah. That's true, actually. I was on the track team at school. Even got scouted before everything went to shit. I think that's the only reason Cor hasn't kicked me out.”

Come to think of it, Pollux was usually one of the last standing when they did Cor's daemon exercise. He was fast and agile. Where he failed was that when given the choice between running and fighting, he would go ballistic and initiate a fight that he would inevitably lose.

“How is your aim?”

“What does it matter? Only Niffs use guns.”

Castor looked embarrassed. “Good job there were no written exams to join the glaives.”

“You shut up!”

The idea that Lucis didn't use guns was not strictly true but he didn't think he'd be able to convince Pollux to use one. “There are options other than guns. How was your performance in target practise?”

“Okay. I'm not a crackshot or anything but I can hit a wide target.”

“As you're faster than the rest of us.” Even Ignis. Even the glaives who could warp. “You could play the role of saboteur. Daemons fade when exposed to sunlight. As do magitek troupers when their armour is breached.”

Castor grinned. “Yeah!”

Pollux simply waited for Ignis to finish his explanation. “You could use something similar to a flashbang grenade that emits a strong UV light. It wouldn't harm your allies while weakening or destroying your enemies.” The arsenal was bottomless. Pollux could use as many as Insomnia could manufacture. “As for the magiteks, there must be some solution that can corrode their armour. I'll look into what our weapons analyst has to say on the matter. You may not be a crackshot but you only need a small breach to allow light in. Other than that, I'm sure Gladio and I can help with your hand to hand combat.”

After all, Ignis' own evasiveness was partly down to knowing just how much a blow from Gladio could hurt. There was a reason Cor kept casting him as an iron giant.

“You work on that, Iggy,” Gladio said. “Castor, Felix, let's see how we can combine our moves. Noct calls these link strikes cause he's a giant dork who watches too much anime.”

###

It took several more weeks of training but the healer-glaive teams started to win. And after they'd done it once, they did it again, until it was far more common for them to win than to lose, and finally they stopped losing altogether. Castor and Felix frequently distinguished themselves, earning individual praise from Cor for both their skills and their teamwork. Pollux revelled in his new role as saboteur, earning Cor's approval once or twice himself. Unfortunately, Albus and his group were also excelling themselves. The rest followed Albus' orders without hesitation and fought together seamlessly.

_All they had to sacrifice was their individuality and humanity._

At this rate, Albus would get his own command when they finished their training.

“You did it,” Cor said, after the latest victory of the healer-glaive groups. He gave one of his rare smiles. For him, that was practically beaming. “And you kept doing it. See, there's no trick. No cheat. Just hard, hard work. That's what's gonna keep you alive out there.”

 

###

Though training took up much of his time, the rest of Ignis' duties had not abated. Taking notes in several meetings that Noct couldn't attend because of school, updating his revision schedule, greeting the damned Duscaen delegation again so they could give everyone a progress report on their farmland, another delegation from Cleigne on their heels, and a meeting on the refugee situation. A small shanty town was forming near the wall and since Niffelheim's attacks were only growing more vicious, it would only grow.

And that was all before lunchtime.

He left the stuffy offices to sit out in the citadel gardens, in the hopes that it would allow him to actually enjoy his lunch. Some of the council were heavily in favour of closing their borders completely. It made a cold, logical kind of sense. Insomnia only had a finite amount of space and resources. If Niflheim continued as it was, eventually there wouldn't be enough for everyone. It was better than to concentrate on protecting those already within the wall.

But that kind of logic only worked if you could ignore all of the people losing their homes, civilians left to battle daemons and magiteks, mass starvation... No wonder so many refugees joined the kingsglaive. It was better to have a fighting chance than none at all.

He'd lost his appetite but he forced himself to eat anyway. He had to keep his strength up for the next time Cor brutalised them in training.

Felix waved at him from across the garden, then dropped onto the bench beside him. “You doing okay? Surely that sandwich can't have insulted you that bad.”

“The sandwich is quite innocent.” The council, however, he wasn't sure of.

“You busy tonight?”

Ignis was about to reply that he was always busy when his brain caught up with his mouth. Another night with Felix was oh-so-tempting but... Heart and soul. Everything or nothing. “I had a very enjoyable evening with you and I'm flattered but--”

“Gladio, right?”

Ignis stared.

Felix chuckled. “Don't worry, it wasn't you that gave it away. Your poker face is impenetrable. Gladio and his puppy eyes follow you around whenever he thinks you won't catch him. Kid's got it bad.”

How had Ignis never noticed that? It was his job to notice things. _Perhaps it was all the effort I expended into not looking at Gladio, lest I be permanently distracted._

“Where are you from originally, Felix? I mean, of course you are no less of an Insomnian citizen now--”

Felix held up a hand to stop him. “Galahd.”

Oh. “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. Some ancient asshole shouldn't be allowed to ruin the world.” Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt. Once a beloved, benevolent ruler like King Regis. He'd turned into an expansionist madman and was now spreading his madness across whole continents. “Most of us don't need more motivation to fight them. They took our homes. Our-- our families.

The council called it the refugee issue to disguise what they meant. Men and women and – gods-- children experiencing whatever had caused the waver in Felix's voice.

“I didn't wanna make it here,” Felix said. “You know that? My house got flattened in the bombing. Killed my husband outright. He woulda-- He woulda made a glaive that'd give Cor a run for his money. But a support beam crushed his head. No way to fight that. I had to leave him. Hid in the basement with our son til we heard the bombs stop. We almost got out but they sent the magiteks in. That stupid, brave little idiot saw them surrounding another family and he dashed off before I could stop him. One of their axemen slice him in half. He was thirteen.”

Gods above...

“I was ready to give up but a little girl was screaming and something switched. The world's full of other people's sons and daughters and husbands and wives. I killed that whole group of magiteks. And got everyone I could here. Every one of those things I kill means that's one less someone else has to fight.”

“Felix, I'm so--”

“Bet you wonder why I'm telling you all this, huh? I'm telling you cause Gladio's still got those puppy eyes. One day you might regret wavering. None of us knows how long we'll have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't sleep so I typed up another chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

Ignis read and reread the priority report that had landed on his desk. And kept rereading it as if the pressure of his eyeballs could sear the words off the page if he did it enough times.

Duscaen engineers had reverse-engineered the equipment given to them. Somehow Duscae had paid for all the licenses that allowed them to do so completely legally. They had then sold that equipment to Leide and Cleigne at a loss in exchange for monopolising most of their trade routes. Now Duscae essentially controlled three quarters of Insomnia's supply of grains and fresh vegetables, there being little in the way of farms inside the wall itself. And since they now had the means to both maintain and produce the machinery, they no longer had any reason to play nicely with Insomnia.

Ignis should have know. He should have known.

King Regis had already arranged a meeting with Ambassador Eldridge and he encouraged Ignis to attend since he was so familiar with this deal.

###

Ignis scheduled his own meeting with Eldridge in the citadel library, where it would be quiet enough to talk in low voices but more importantly where he wouldn't be alone.

“I still have the recording,” Ignis hissed at him. “And several backups.”

The urge to smack the smug look off Eldridge's face was almost overwhelming. He sat leaning back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach. “You are an arrogant little thing. What makes you think anyone will care?”

“His majesty--”

“You'll make your king choose between you and feeding his kingdom, will you? Yes, very arrogant. Which is really the root of all this. You assumed we were a hick town with no skilled engineers of our own and patted yourselves on the back for your charity.”

“That is patently untrue.” Insomnia was monetarily wealthy but poor in the kind of resources that Duscae should have plenty of. It was a trade. Not charity. “Much of your farmland had been devastated by the war and by daemons. A month ago you didn't have the money to do this for yourselves, so where did it come from?”

“Insomnia isn't the only generous benefactor in Eos.”

“ _Niflheim?_ ”

“My benefactor prefers to remain anonymous. Tell me, if we cease to trade with Insomnia, how long before every man, woman and child in this place starves? Will your wall protect you from that?”

“That would be senseless. You'd lose one of your biggest markets and you'd be a lot poorer for it.”

“Perhaps we won't cut you off entirely. Perhaps just raise our prices, say ten thousand percent. You'll have to pay it eventually.”

Starve them or crash their economy. Who was this mysterious benefactor? Eldridge wasn't clever enough to come up with something like this by himself. “What do you want?”

“You already know what I want.”

 _No._ “You're willing to ruin the goodwill between our nations for... for that?”

“I'm willing to consider keeping your supply lines open, yes.”

“You know what that makes you.”

“A shrewd politician.”

“A rapist.”

Eldridge only chuckled. Ignis gaped at him. It was so beyond the pale, so cartoonishly villainous he couldn't quite believe he'd heard it. “Do you think that things like that matter anymore? We could fall to daemons or Niflheim at any moment. It's bleak outside your ivory tower, Ignis, the only thing we can do is take our last fleeting pleasures where we find them. And I'm sure ravishing you will be an exquisite pleasure.”

 _I'll murder you._ “You are not the only member of the delegation.”

“They're all in agreement with me. Let Insomnia starve, since it's content to let the rest of Eos wither while it cowers behind its wall.”

###

Ignis wouldn't. He wouldn't. There were other options. There was arable land outside of Duscae, Cleigne, and Leide, some of which hadn't been annexed by Niffelheim. It would be harder to import from there but in the event of catastrophic damage it would be hard to import anything from anywhere. King Regis would not allow Eldridge to control them as he was trying to do. There would be something--

Absently, he checked the notifications on his phone. Several diary reminders, one message from Noct asking that he pick up milk and soda on his way over, and one from Eldridge.

_21:00 in my quarters._

The timing must be on purpose. Some hours after he'd have to sit through the meeting where Eldridge would pretend to deliberate. No. It had to be a no. No one could expect him to make a sacrifice like this. How could he ever look Noct in the eye again knowing the only tool he'd been able to use in a matter like this was his body?

He drifted through the rest of his day, barely seeing or hearing anything in front of him, until he was smacked into the present by taking a seat at the meeting. Sitting opposite Eldridge. The bastard grinned at him. Ignis tugged his collar further up his neck.

King Regis was gentle with the Duscaen delegation. For now. While Eldridge refused every compromise and cut off the other members of his delegation whenever they tried to suggest anything. Clarus, standing at Regis' right side, glowered over his shoulder throughout. He had one hand on his sword hilt the entire time. It was protocol for the guards to carry weapons with them in the case of the king's death or some other event that would prevent access to the armiger. The sword he wore on his hip wasn't the behemoth sized one he usually favoured but it was certainly large enough to be noticed. Several of the delegation seemed distracted by it.

Not Eldridge. So assured was he of his control over Ignis that he didn't even fear the king's legendary shield, a man thrice his size.

“Ambassador Eldridge,” Regis said after so many hours of debate that Ignis' was fighting pins and needles in his foot. “This is getting circular. Are there any terms we can present that you will consider?”

“Surely the great kingdom of Insomnia has more to offer.”

A foot nudged Ignis' under the table. He jerked it away.

Enough.

“Your majesty,” Ignis said. “Ambassador Eldridge offered a compromise to me, personally.”

It was worth it just to see the oily grin freeze on Eldridge's face.

“Oh?” Regis said. “How unorthodox. You are aware, ambassador, that Ignis lacks the authority to make such decisions and even if he were to gain it, he wouldn't presume to make them without at least consulting me.”

“He's a bright boy, your majesty. I merely--”

Regis continued as if Eldridge hadn't spoke. “What was this compromise, Ignis?”

“He said that he might look favourably on Insomnia if I were to sleep with him.”

Doubt was writ large on several of the council's faces. Some actively scoffed. Eldridge was already schooling his face into an expression of affronted innocence. Yes, it did sound absurd that someone was willing to toy with the fate of two nations just to sleep with him. He summoned the dictaphone from the arsenal before any real opposition could get underway and played it.

“Quiet,” Regis said. He didn't have to shout to hush them.

_...you'll strip for me...delectable ass in the air...no prophylactics..._

There was a moment of silence and then the entire room erupted into angry shouting so loud that it was impossible to distinguish one voice from another.

###

Once the cacophony had died down and Eldridge had been escorted away by two crownsguard, Regis dismissed the rest of the delegation. He ordered them confined to their rooms until they got to the root of this. Which left Ignis facing the high council. Ignis wished he could leave just so he didn't have to face their stares. Despite Regis and Clarus either side of him, he felt very alone.

The first to speak was counsellor Ansel. “I've maintained that giving the boy these kinds of responsibilities was a mistake for some time.”

“Predicted this, did you?” said Clarus.

“Of course not! But he's too young to have all this on his shoulders. Look at how that-- that man sought to exploit him.”

Ignis couldn't find his voice but Regis spoke for him. “Ignis has always taken his duties seriously and has performed them to an exemplary standard. That is not the issue here.”

“If I may,” said councillor Subris. “Duscae does have us in a vulnerable position. If all he wants is a night with the boy...”

The rest of that sentence withered under Regis' glare. Ignis was gratified to see that most of the council looked equally disgusted, although some of them looked guilty.

“That is not up for consideration,” Regis said. “Julian Eldridge is no longer the Duscaen ambassador. You are all dismissed.”

The council filed out, leaving Ignis alone with Clarus and Regis.

“I'm sorry, your majesty,” Ignis said.

“What in the world are you sorry about?” said Clarus, whipping his head around from where he'd been watching the council leave with narrowed eyes.

“I should have been more discreet. I should have--”

“You did the right thing,” Regis said. He turned his chair toward Ignis', not quite managing to hide a wince as it jostled his leg. “Please don't worry about the imports. Eldridge is not as integral to all of this as he seems to believe. What did you notice about the rest of his delegation?”

“They were perplexed and uncomfortable.” Especially after the dictaphone played. Ignis doubted any of them had known exactly what it was that Eldridge had wanted.

“Exactly. I wouldn't be surprised if they were already deciding on a new ambassador.”

Of course. Ambassadors weren't nearly as powerful as Eldridge had made himself out to be. The fear of the ramifications of any missteps Ignis might take had clouded his judgement. Clarus and Regis both looked as grave as Ignis had ever seen them. He had caused so much trouble but he had just wanted it to be over.

“Did he do anything to you?” Clarus asked. “Other than what you've already told us.”

“No.” Wait, that wasn't true. “He... stroked my leg a couple of times.”

Regis winced and unfettered anger clouded Clarus' face for a moment. They were both fathers of young men close to Ignis' age.

“I know this must be difficult,” Regis said. “But we need you to tell us everything. We won't share this with anyone but essential staff but we do need your testimony.”

Ignis took a few shaky breaths and told them. Everything. From Eldridge inviting him to his room to share Port, to that awful dinner, to how he'd recorded him, and the most recent attempts at coercion. Clarus paced up and down the room, hand white-knuckled on his sword hilt, but Regis just listened, premature lines etched more deeply on his face.

“Without the recording, it would have been my word against his. I didn't know what else to do.”

“Your word means a great deal to me, Ignis,” Regis said. “But I commend you on your quick thinking in such a terrible situation.”

“Some of the council...” He'd already been aware that some of them thought him too young to have a place here, that others grumbled about him having the king's favour, or that his friendship with Noct was inappropriate, but to see how little some of them thought of him was sobering. “They were...”

“Not as appalled as they should have been,” Clarus said. “I'll be keeping a close eye on them.”

“And I shall have words,” said Regis. “I doubt anyone is able to concentrate on anything much after all of that, so we'll take a recess. You, Ignis, take the rest of the day off. Remember that you can always approach me if something is troubling you and that I would never ask you to sacrifice your dignity on my behalf.”

###

Cooking took his mind off things. It wasn't as inspiring for him as the others seemed to believe but it presented new challenges. One of which was finding new ways to sneak vegetables into Noct's diet. Left to his own devices, Noct would eat nothing but chicken nuggets and fries, and sickly with greasy fingers was not an inspirational future monarch. Ignis' latest scheme was dumplings. Vegetable dumplings. Without being able to see the filling, Noct would stuff three in his mouth without asking questions and if they tasted good enough – which they would – he'd eat his fill of them. After all, he'd scarcely be able to eat chicken nuggets if he ever thought about what was inside them.

He'd placed the dough in the fridge and mixed most of the ingredients in a wok when someone rapped on his door. He cracked the door open, holding it in one hand while he summoned a dagger with the other, and peered out.

“Hey,” Gladio said, waving through the crack. “Dad told me about all the shit that went down. You okay?”

Ignis dismissed the dagger. Of course it was only Gladio. The guards were keeping an eye on every member of the Duscaen delegation and even if they weren't, who was going to fight him just to protect someone like Eldridge? They probably loathed him as much as Ignis did, perhaps moreso since they had to put up with him every day. “Surprisingly, yes.” It was out of his hands now. “Eldridge might have complicated things in the future. Best to deal with him now.”

Gladio made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs. “Sick bastard, putting Duscae and Insomnia on the line just for-- well, you know what he did.”

“Some of the council were sceptical.”

“Yeah, dad told me about that too. He wouldn't give me names.”

“I'm not going to either.” Though he doubted Gladio would actually do anything. A man his size could flatten Noct but though he challenged him, Gladio never actually hurt him. He pretended to be a hothead when it suited him but he practised moderation and restraint. “Gladio. I've been thinking about what you said.”

“Yeah?” Gladio was ever-so-careful to sound casual.

“Yes. And I want to-- I want you. This. Whatever it could be. And I simply won't tolerate you not touching me for one second longer.”

Gladio swept out of his chair and descended on Ignis, pushing him into the wall with his body. Ignis clung back, mouth on Gladio's, hands clutching at too-short hair, pelvis grinding against his. They'd barely touched and were both so hard already, cocks sliding against each other in too-tight pants. They ripped at each other's clothing until finally they were stripped to the waist, skin against skin, still kissing desperately. Gladio fumbled at the fly of Ignis' dress trousers, hindered further by Ignis pressing into his touch, then yanked them down with one hand. They fell, binding Ignis at the knees.

“You wanna take this to the bedroom?” Gladio asked, squeezing two handfuls of Ignis' arse. “Or do you want me to fuck you right here against the wall?”

Ignis wriggled out of his trousers and shoes. “Wall.”

He took another rough kiss from Gladio and turned to place his palms flat against the wall, bent at the waist. He parted his legs.

“Gods, Iggy.” Gladio skirted his hands down Ignis' sides, the light touch making all the hairs on his body stand on end as if they too were straining to be touched. Gladio pulled Ignis' briefs down, slowly revealing him inch by inch. “You're perfect, you know that?”

Ignis scoffed. Coming from a man who had muscles the Infernian would envy. The briefs slipped past Ignis' thighs, their soft cotton chased by Gladio's rough fingers. Gladio traced their path all the way to the floor, finger pads drifting over his bare skin, tender in places with the bruises from training. Gladio sank to his knees behind him.

“Cute mole here.” Gladio traced a circle just underneath the crease of his right buttock.

“Gladio.”

“Hey, I didn't get to see you naked last time. Let me enjoy it.”

“You saw me naked in the showers.”

“I wasn't looking. I'm a gentleman.”

“You'll be a dead gentleman if you don't hurry it up.”

Gladio laughed, breath ghosting along the back of Ignis' thighs. “Hey. Spread your legs wider for me.”

It was a very... exposed position, especially considered where Gladio's face was. Ignis hesitated only for a second, colouring as Gladio made an awed noise like he had just witnessed the final brushstroke of a masterpiece. Ignis may have gotten self-conscious if Gladio had made another comment but he just pressed a soft kiss to where he'd said that mole was. 

“You okay?”

“I'm having my patience tested.”

The sudden swipe of Gladio's hot, slick tongue over his hole made Ignis gasp. It was... odd. So much at once that his body didn't know how to process it. Odd but good. The intensity taken out of it after Gladio continued to lap and he began to relax, panting wetly as he continued. He could feel everything. Every single hair of Gladio's stubble. Every bump of his tongue. It wavered between too much and not enough. His legs shook with the effort of holding himself up. He moaned as Gladio's tongue curled over him once more and then dipped inside him. His cock strained, little trills of pleasure going through him at each new lick.

“Gladio,” he managed to say, somehow. “You need to hurry up.”

Gladio lifted his face. He pulled a tube of lube out of thin air, the blue sparks reflected on the wall.

“Does _Noct_ know you keep that there?”

“Noct gets the giggles and leave the room whenever anyone even so much as hints about something sexual. I think I'm good.”

True. When Ignis had tried to give him the talk, Noct had panicked and warped onto the window ledge. “Still--”

“I really don't wanna talk about Noct right now.”

Yes, Ignis' erection had started to flag. All it took to revive it was Gladio pushing two slicked fingers inside of him. He was already so relaxed and wide-open it was barely an intrusion. Ignis bore down on them, chasing them all the way to the knuckle.

“Fuck me, Gladio. Take your fingers out of me right now and fuck me.”

Gladio only laughed. “Hold on, Iggy.” He hooked his fingers in such a way that it hit that electro-shock spot inside him.

“Gladio!”

“All right, all right. Damn, you're bossy.”

Gladio stood and lifted one of Ignis' legs, hand on the back of his thigh. _Yes. Yes. Yes._ Gladio's cock spread him open far wider than his tongue, a little more girthy than Felix, the pressure just right as he pulled Ignis into the ideal position to push his cock as deep inside him as it could go.

“You feel so damn good, Iggy.”

“You too. You too.”

He pounded hard into Ignis, still holding his leg up to fuck him open wider and thrust deeper every time. Ignis pushed back to meet him, greedily taking as much as quickly as he could. He sucked on the fingers that Gladio stuck into his mouth, moaning around them. Gladio groaned into the back of his neck, his skin molten where it touched Ignis'.

Huge. Perfect. Ramming into Ignis so hard he lifted him off his toes with each thrust. A particularly hard one made him arch against Gladio, crying out around Gladio's fingers into his mouth. Gladio bit into the back of Ignis' neck with another thrust and that extra surge of sensation made Ignis come, splattering the wall in front of him.

“Gods.”

Gladio hammered into him for another half a dozen thrusts, then came with a moan he smothered against the side of Ignis' neck. Ignis sank back against him, muscles languid with the afterglow. Gladio, still inside him, took his weight, one leg still held aloft. He nuzzled at every part of Ignis he could reach, giving a couple of last gentle thrusts.

“Gods,” he said again. “I wanna stay inside you forever.”

“That'll give tomorrow's municipal committee quite a turn.”

“Mm.” Gladio pulled out of him and enfolded him into a hug that lifted him off his feet. He was huge, firm and warm like a human mattress. “Better get you cleaned up then.”

Ignis yawned. “You're not going to take me again?”

Gladio yawned even more hugely. “After we take a nap.”


	15. Chapter 15

Somehow, Ignis ended up as the big spoon. Though he felt more like a small backpack trying to curl around Gladio's sheer mass. Not that he was complaining. Getting to nap until mid-afternoon was a rare indulgence for them both without the added luxury of waking up together. Gladio turned his head, a lazy smile spreading across his face. Ignis squinted at him, trying to take it all in without his glasses.

“Man. I never thought fucking you would be like this.”

“What _did_ you think it would be like?”

“With a stopwatch. Ten minutes of foreplay. Two point five minutes of prep. Twenty-five minutes of fornication.”

“It isn't too late for me to kick you out of bed.”

Gladio laughed and they were still so entangled it rumbled through Ignis' chest as well. “Hey, you're so hot I woulda taken the stopwatch thing.” He rolled, taking Ignis with him and ended up with his head pillowed on Ignis' chest and one leg slung over him. He looked at Ignis, still smiling. Puppy eyes indeed. Ignis ran his fingers through Gladio's hair, the longer ones on top and the velvet soft fluff of his undercut. Gladio sighed and hunkered down further into Ignis' chest.

“You are very heavy.”

“You can take it. I believe in you.”

Ignis ran his fingers over and over the undercut. It looked utilitarian but it was sinfully wonderful to touch. He peered down the relaxed line of Gladio's body. They were both still naked and Gladio's movements had knocked the blanket askew. It revealed not only his muscular back peppered here and there with scars or bruises, but the swell of his buttocks. He clenched and flexed them when he noticed Ignis looking.

Ignis swatted him on the arse. “Show off.”

“You love it.”

As much as he would have loved to lie like that, perhaps drift back off to sleep with Gladio in his arms, real life intervened as it was wont to do. Someone hammered on the door of his apartment, the knocks getting more frantic when Ignis didn't immediately answer.

“Ignis! Iggy! You okay? If you don't answer I'm gonna warp inside.”

“It's Noct!”

They dived for their clothes. Gladio pulled on a pair of trousers, Ignis hastily threw the first shirt he found over his shoulders. “Noctis, I'm quite all right. Do not under any circumstances warp past that door!” He spotted his pyjama bottoms folded on the dresser and stepped into them. 

“Iggy.” Noct tried the handle. Thankfully, the door was locked. “I'm gonna kick that ambassador's ass!”

“You will do no such thing!”

In the living area, Ignis kicked all the clothes strewn about from earlier under the sofa. He yanked the door open.

“He--” Noct stared. “What the hell are you wearing?”

A pair of pyjama bottoms and a shirt that had been buttoned-up incorrectly. Not the most dashing combination but infinitely preferable to exposing himself to his prince. “I was resting. Perhaps if you weren't threatening to break in, I would have had the chance to dress properly.”

But Gladio wasn't built for stealth and Noct looked right past Ignis, to where Gladio was trying to nonchalantly gather his shirt from under the sofa. He stood up straight, pretending to casually lean against it. Noct's brow crinkled but he dismissed it without a word. He slid past Ignis and into the apartment.

“I'm gonna execute him!”

“Capital punishment has not been allowed in Insomnia for centuries, Noct.”

“Then I'll exile him!”

“He isn't an Insomnian citizen.”

“Then- then I'll make everything he eats taste like sprouts!”

“How?”

“Magic?”

Ignis shook his head, trying not to smile in the face of Noct's obvious distress. “It's being dealt with by the appropriate channels. You don't need to interfere.”

“He could've-- He might've really hurt you.”

“But he didn't.”

Noct's shoulders sank and he stuck his hands in his pockets. “Are you okay?”

“I am fine, Noct. Truly. You needn't have worried.”

A small _oof_ escaped him as Noct pelted into his midriff and clung. Ignis patted his back awkwardly. Through adolescence, Noct had not been much of a cuddler. He hadn't hugged even his own father in years. Nor Prompto, who he was exceptionally close with. Ignis stared down at the small, fluffy dark head and found no answers there. He looked to Gladio instead.

 _Hug the kid back,_ Gladio mouthed.

Ignis encircled Noct in his arms. He didn't know why it was so difficult now. When they were small, Noct had hugged everybody and Ignis especially. But that was in the innocence of childhood, before etiquette lessons and the harder-to-hear lectures about the position of royalty and the inherent power balances between Noct and his subjects. Before hungry gossip journalists and the constant speculation about his personal life.

“Noct. Everything is okay.”

“I heard--” Ignis jolted as Noct's voice broke, turned into gasping sobs. “I heard councillor Subris ranting on and on about you. Said he didn't see what was so bad about letting the ambassador-- Tried to backtrack when he saw me but-- I thought, I thought they were gonna make you--” The rest devolved into unintelligible sobs. True, unrestrained crying, soaking Ignis' shirt.

Oh goodness. “Noct. That's not going to happen-- Where are you going?”

That was to Gladio who had stamped past them. “To punch an old man in the dick!”

“That is not going to help.” With one arm still around Noct, Ignis pointed Gladio to one of the stools in front of the kitchen counter. “Sit.”

Gladio lowered himself reluctantly into the stool. “Think he'd talk about the rest of the council like that? You do ten times as much work as these assholes and that's what they have to say about this?”

“And how will assaulting a council member help?”

“It'll make me feel better.”

Ignis guided Noct onto the stool beside Gladio. He swiped at his eyes and nose with his arms but they kept running. He continued to sniffle, hiding his face from Gladio.

“Listen to me, both of you. I understand.” Oh yes, he understood. If this had happened to Noct or to Gladio the astrals themselves would feel his wrath. “Neither of you are going to do anything because you getting yourselves into trouble over this will not make me feel better. You are to leave his majesty to deal with this and trust him to mete out justice. Is that understood?”

“But--”

“He--”

“I said, is that understood?”

“Yes, Ignis.”

“Yeah, Iggy.”

“Good. Now, are you both hungry?”

Noct, still sniffling but beginning to compose himself, nodded. Gladio did too, after a beat. The vegetable dumpling plan may come to fruition yet.

“Why's Gladio hanging around with his shirt off anyway?” Noct asked.

Ah. “Gladio hangs around everywhere with his shirt off.” Which seemed to be a satisfactory answer because Noct didn't ask any further questions about it.

###

 

A new Duscaen ambassador was elected as Regis and Clarus had predicted. Ambassador Cal was full of apologies and long speeches on how Eldridge's behaviour wasn't a reflection on the values of Duscae itself. She was also more than happy to turn him over to Insomnia for sentencing. It would likely have happened anyway. Duscae lacked anything more than a small lock-up. But it was a nice gesture, nonetheless.

Ignis was aware, in an academic way, that this process usually took months if not years. Gathering evidence and victim statements. It took only a couple of months for Eldridge to be prosecuted. He was being charged with two counts of sexual assault because he'd touched Ignis' legs, one count of attempted rape for the coercion aspect, and that was only for what he'd done to Ignis. There were others. He'd been in a position of power for a long time. Other young men came forward. Grooming, sexual harassment, more sexual assault... Ignis didn't know how to feel about the way they itemised the charges. Like a laundry list. Or a recipe.

He chose not to sit in court for the final verdict. He didn't need to hear Eldridge's excuses and they'd already taken Ignis' testimony.

Regis came to his apartment in person to deliver the news that he'd received a life sentence.

“Could I have prevented any of the others?” Ignis asked. “If I had reported this sooner?”

“No, Ignis. He's been doing these things since before you were old enough to talk. You couldn't have stopped him.”

 _Why did he target me? What about me made him think he'd get away with it_? It wasn't something Regis could answer, so he kept it locked in his thoughts. “Sex offenders aren't usually given life sentences.” Something he'd disapproved of due to the abhorrent nature of the crime. But it was – had been – a distant, impersonal disapproval.

“The court felt he was unlikely to be rehabilitated.”

Because Regis had encouraged them to feel that way? His placid face betrayed nothing. “Thank you for letting me know, your majesty.”

“There's another matter. I've ensured this is kept out of the public eye but as both the council and the Duscaen delegation are aware of some of the incidents--” Because of the way Ignis had revealed it. “I can't guarantee that you won't be the subject of some gossip among the citadel.”

“I'm sure I can endure some idle gossip.”

 

“I have the utmost faith in you. However, if anyone does cross any lines of propriety do let me know. I can't allow that sort of thing to run rampant.”

“Thank you, your majesty.”

“Would you like to make an appointment with a therapist?”

“There's no need.” He was not traumatised, nor did he have time to spare to talk about his feelings. Eldridge had barely touched him and the rest was just words. He was not a victim. “Although I do appreciate the offer.”

“As you wish. If you change your mind, you need only let me know.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

A silence stretched between them. Again, Ignis wished he had a better read on Regis. Surely he had far more important things to do than sit in Ignis' apartment.

“Would you like a drink or--?”

Regis waved off the offer. “How is Noctis? I'm afraid you see him far more often than I do these days.”

“Well.” Ignis thought guiltily of him sobbing into his shirt. But empathy was a good trait in a king, surely. “I've introduced smoothies to his diet. He may not be the first monarch to die of scurvy.”

Regis laughed, fondly. “Even when he was a baby he would spit out pea-flavoured baby food. Your good influence hasn't changed that. You know when you were five or six Clarus was concerned about how rarely you ate treats. He'd never seen a child actively enjoy leek soup.” It seemed like Regis was looking at Ignis over the years. Did he still see that small, well-behaved boy in short trousers whenever he looked at him?

“I had heard that sweets rot people's teeth and was concerned about how many Noct ate. I thought he might follow my example.”

Another laugh. Regis rose slowly from his chair. Ignis hovered, unsure whether or not to offer him a hand up. When Regis had managed to stand, he squeezed Ignis' shoulder with the hand not grasping his walking stick. “Your needs are important too, Ignis. You don't have to bear your burdens alone.”

###

When Ignis arrived to cook Noct's evening meal, he and Prompt were huddled together, whispering about something in low voices. The last time he'd walked in on this they'd been fifteen and gathering the courage to ask if Prompto was allowed to sleep over for the first time, so it didn't worry him overly much. Ignis prepared the ingredients for a bolognaise. Tomato sauce was something Noct actually enjoyed despite the vitamins and finely diced courgettes and mushrooms could be hidden among the mince.

“Ooh, Altissian style,” Prompto said, when he served it. He tried to twirl his fork around the spaghetti and succeeded after a few attempts.

Noct picked at his own. Clearly he had something on his mind other than food. “Iggy...”

“Yes?”

“You've been training with the kingsglaive, right?”

“Indeed I have.”

Prompto watched them both intently, eyes wide while his mouth slurped at the spaghetti. Noct continued to fiddle with his fork. Ignis took another mouthful, trying to silently convey to Prompto the proper way to eat it without pebble-dashing the table with sauce.

“I wanna join,” Prompto blurted through a huge mouthful of bolognaise.

It was like a kick to the tailbone. Ignis dropped his fork into his bowl. No. _No_. Absolutely not. “You're too young.”

“I'm sixteen.”

Which was the minimum recruiting age for the kingsglaive and years older than Ignis had been when he started combat training. But Prompto couldn't be allowed to go through with this. A boy like him exposed to the glaives and their constant sexual overtures? He wouldn't allow it. Noct was not the only one who turned beet red at the merest mention of sex. With most boys their age, Ignis would have had to be vigilant for underage dalliances but he suspected he'd have to hand out instructions if either of them wanted to dally with anyone. And he would preserve that status quo as long as possible.

“No.” Prompto simply could not be put in that environment. Not with people like Albus.

“It's not up to you!” Noct said.

“Prompto.” Ignis ignored Noct for now. “You have sauce on your chin.”

Prompto wiped the offending sauce with the back of his hand, only succeeding on smearing it there instead. He licked it off sheepishly. “I know I can't fight now but I can learn. I've been running since I was twelve so I'm fit. I'm sure I'll pass the tests.”

“It isn't about your ability.”

“Yeah?” Noct said. “What is it about then?”

“Noct, this isn't your decision.”

“It isn't yours either!”

For a teenage boy, Noct was not as much as a handful as he could be. This combative side of his, however, was wearing. “Prompto, why do you want to join the kingsglaive?”

“You guys are always training together. I could help out if I was a glaive.”

Ah. “You needn't do anything as drastic as joining the kingsglaive to be included.” Prompto blushed, stammering something about how he didn't feel left out of anything. Ignis bowled right over it. “You may join us for training if it isn't going to interfere with your own schoolwork and you can get your parent's permission. Gladio and I will show you some self-defence.”

“For real?”

“Yes.” It wasn't a bad idea. In the very worst case scenarios, Prompto's relationship to Noct could make him a target. Teaching him some basic skills was only practical. Prompto beamed at them.

Noct kicked him in the ankle. “You won't be smiling like that when Gladio kicks your ass.” That started a play-fight that Ignis put an end to when they disturbed the bowls on the table. The matter of Prompto joining the kingsglaive was quite forgotten by the time Ignis ordered them to sit still and finish their food.

###

There was no training with the glaives scheduled for the week ahead. Their training had been so intense up until then that it had to be an oversight. Ignis headed to Cor's office for clarification. Instead of Cor he found Pollux in one of the corridors, kicking a dent into the wall.

“Pollux? Is everything all right?”

He gave the wall an extra-hard kick before he swung around to face Ignis. “I got a suspension.”

“Whatever for?”

“Kicking Mensa's ass after he asked me if I had as many freckles on my butt as Castor.”

Thoroughly deserved, in Ignis' opinion, but it would have ramifications. He'd only been back to work for a couple of days and already that day with Gladio seemed like it had happened in the distant past. “You'll be back in a couple of weeks.”

“You don't get it. You never get it! We're-- They're being deployed. _Castor_ 's being deployed without me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently insomnia makes me very productive.


	16. Chapter 16

It was a gross misuse of Ignis' access to so many areas of the pcitadel's intranet but he looked up the details of the deployment. Almost the entire unit he and Gladio had been training with had been deployed together, Felix and Castor's names and faces in the personnel files. Their commander was a fierce, scarred woman with cropped grey hair and they had half a dozen more experienced glaives with them besides. They'd been dispatched to quell some increased Niflheim activity on the north west border of Lucis. There were no reports of casualties. Ignis dearly wished that was reassuring. No news meant either that there was nothing to report, or there was no one left to make the report.

Only two members of that cohort of glaives hadn't been deployed. Pollux, obviously, because he was suspended. And Mensa. Because Pollux had broken one of his wrists, cracked two teeth, and bruised his ribs. The breaks and bruises would have been fixed with a potion but he was in hospital for the teeth. The examination had revealed an impacted wisdom tooth which had to be removed for fear of damage to the trigeminal nerve. He was still in hospital now, fasting while he awaited the procedure.

Ignis walked right into his room without a word. He slapped down the small briefcase he usually carried his paperwork in. It clanged, metal hitting its hard sides. That done, Ignis lifted a corner of one of the plastic chairs left for visitors, dragging its leg across the hard floor. He didn't need to look to know that Mensa was already transfixed. His mouth was still half-open when Ignis sat on the chair by his bed.

He folded his hands neatly in his lap. “Good evening, Mensa.”

Mensa's gaze flicked to the briefcase and then back to Ignis. “You're not allowed to do this.”

“I'm not allowed to visit a poorly colleague?”

Again, the flick to the briefcase. “What's in there? Why's it not in the armiger?”

“Because nothing is put into or taken out of the armiger without notice. There's an official inventory, did you know that? The crownsguard manage it. Put something in there you're not supposed to or, heavens forbid, take something out you aren't meant to have and one of them will have words with you.” Thankfully the subject of Gladio's lubricant had never come up.

“Pollux went ballistic! I thought he was gonna fucking kill me.”

“Because you tortured his brother.”

“I never hurt Castor!”

It was oh-so-tempting to also go ballistic. Ignis removed his glasses. Mensa flinched at the sudden movement but Ignis only cleaned the lenses with his pocket square, huffed on them, cleaned them again, held them up to the light to ensure every smudge was gone. Mensa's jittery gaze flew from Ignis to the glasses to the briefcase and back to Ignis again. “That is an outright lie. If you weren't involved then you wouldn't have been able to make that vile comment to Pollux.”

“Yeah, right. Like I'm the only one who's seen Castor's freckled ass. They're cute. Him and Pollux. I bet you've sneaked a peek too.”

“I most certainly have not.”

“Right. You're so much better than us. I know what you're doing, Scientia, and you don't scare me.” Liar. “You can't do anything to me here.”

Ignis rested his hand against the briefcase and tapped his fingers against it one by one. _Clink clink clink._ “I can't? What you mean is that you don't think that I will.”

“You won't. You won't risk it. You're too high up.”

“You and your friends tried to assault me, you and Sella tried to coerce me into giving you oral sex, you nearly killed Castor--”

“I didn't fucking hurt Castor! I healed him. I didn't cut him or anything, only healed him when it looked like it was getting bad.”

“How noble of you.”

“Fuck you! I was horny. I didn't wanna hurt him. Most of us didn't. Albus--” He looked wildly at the door, as if Albus would warp there, summoned by his name. “Do you know what Albus'll do if he finds out about this?”

“Albus isn't here.”

“I told you! I didn't do anything.”

“You didn't do anything? Because you didn't hold a knife, didn't carve the words into his skin?” Ignis braced one hand on the bed to lean forward, satisfied when Mensa cringed away from it. “You were 'just horny'.” Ignis pushed it down and further down, all the second hand shame and fear that had sank into him when Castor told him about spin the bottle and being passed from glaive to glaive for kisses he hadn't wanted, when he'd told him he thought he could save Pollux with his body. Down and away, lest he murder Mensa in his own hospital bed. “The only reason Castor was there at all, there with you and your lust, and the others and their knives, was that you'd taken all his other choices away.”

“You don't know what it's like! What Albus is like.”

“I have a very good idea.”

“No you don't! You don't have to be around him all the time. It's all mind games and when he wants something, someone--”

“You ceased to be a victim the moment you harmed others. Tell me who else hurt Castor.”

“Or what?”

Ignis stood up sharply. He only had to reach for the clasps on the briefcase.

“All right! All right! I'll tell you.”

A coward as well as all his other vices. Ignis sat back down. He took a small notebook from his inside pocket. He'd be foolish to trust memory alone. It would return to his inside pocket rather than the armiger, to ensure only his eyes landed on it. He wrote down every name. Albus, of course, and a dozen others. Whether they'd been involved because they feared Albus or because of their own sick proclivities, Ignis cared not a jot. Something had to be done about all of them. Once he'd put away the notebook, Ignis again reached for his briefcase.

“I did what you wanted! Please. I didn't hurt him.”

Ignis flipped open the case. It held an assortment of picture frames and spoons. Objects that had raised the eyebrow of the hospital's security guard when he set off the metal detector but nothing more. “Sometimes I like to take my cutlery out for an airing, don't you?”

###

It wasn't in Ignis' job description to bail people out of jail but when a harried-looking Cor asked Ignis to, he could hardly refuse. He shoved the cheque at Ignis.

“You talk to him. Maybe he'll listen to you.”

Cor waited outside in the car, leaving Ignis to make the payment and the apologies to the officers for the disturbance. Pollux's eyebrows shot up into his hairline when he saw Ignis. He allowed Ignis to keep pace with him until they were on the police station's steps.

“Drunk and disorderly, Pollux. Really?”

“So you're gonna start lecturing me now? Just leave it, all right?”

“You're better than this.”

“Obviously not. Look, you don't need to babysit me. I can get back on my own.”

“Pollux.” Ignis caught his elbow as he tried to sweep past him. He jerked his arm away but he did stop. This was the third day of Castor's deployment and the third incident in that time. “If you continue to act like this, you'll be ejected from the glaives.”

“I know, okay? But I can't-- This one wasn't my fault anyway. Some guy thought I was Castor. He didn't know we were twins and thought I was fucking with him. He started it.”

“You didn't have to finish it.”

“Gods, you sound like my mom when I--” Pollux cut himself off. “I dunno how I'm supposed to handle this. Castor might die out there. He might fucking die. And, yeah, that was always a risk but I thought we'd be together at least. Like always.”

“Castor is a very sensible and capable man.” As if he didn't check the deployment records every morning, lunchtime and evening. “I understand your concern--”

“How? You don't have any family!”

Stricken, the rest of the comforting words he'd so carefully prepared fell out of his head.

“Shit. I didn't-- I didn't mean that. I'm all kinds of a fuck-up today, huh?”

“I do understand.” Ignis considered offering some kind of tactile comfort, his hand hovering awkwardly for a few seconds, before deciding against it. “I have no biological siblings but I have Noct--”

“Yeah, well. At least yours is a fucking prince who other people have to die to protect.”

“ _Listen_ , Pollux. I have Noct, I have my uncle, and I... care for Gladio a great deal. I would do anything to keep them safe. But fighting the entire world won't do that. Nor would they approve. Do you think Castor would appreciate the way you've been behaving?”

Pollux avoided Ignis' gaze, idly scuffing his shoes against the steps. “No.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, head lowered, the very picture of contrition. “Do you scold the prince like this?”

“At least twice a week. There are more productive ways to channel your anger. Join Gladio and I for more training at least.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

They headed to where Cor was parked and slid into the back seat.

“You gonna calm the hell down this time?” Cor asked Pollux.

“Yes, Marshall.”

###

It was now five days into their deployment. Still no reports. Ignis went from checking them thrice daily to every time he had the opportunity, or sometimes when he didn't have the opportunity. Sneaking glances at his phone during meetings. Still nothing. The least he could do was keep Pollux out of trouble until they returned.

Pollux's suspension meant he was banned from most of the facilities the glaives used but not those that were reserved for Gladio and the rigorous upkeep he needed for his duties. They trained every evening now, Pollux with a ferocity that was going to injure him if Castor didn't return soon. This evening Prompto was joining them since Noct's speech-writing lesson had him at a loose end. Ignis had signed an entire novel's worth of paperwork to get him the permissions required.

“Who's the kid?” Pollux asked, watching Gladio put Prompto into a headlock. He was restraining himself a great deal but Prompto was still considerably smaller and lighter. Gladio kept accidentally lifting him off the ground when he tried to show him how to break it.

“A friend of Noct's.”

“He's a Niff, right?”

“He is--” 

Ignis hadn't realised how he was biting out his words until Pollux waved his hands frantically. “No, no. I didn't mean it like that. Some of the glaives are Niffs, right? They're not all bad. Just, he doesn't look Lucian, you know?”

“Nor do we.” Truthfully, Ignis didn't know that much about Prompto. Though he chatted endlessly about minor things, his personal life was a subject he steered them away from whenever it came up. Prompto was not a threat to Noct and that was all the thought he'd given to the matter of his heritage. Besides, Ignis was half-Tenebrian.

“That's cause I'm from Accordo.”

Yet another region annexed by Niflheim but one that retained its autonomy. Insomnia almost never received refugees from Accordo. The confusion must have been evident on his face because Pollux continued speaking.

“Not Accordo itself but Rossily. It was one of their territories from some ancient war. Way before this one. No one ever wanted it back enough to take it, so they got stuck with it. It's-- it was tiny. The Niffs trampled over it when they came for the rest of Accordo. Me and Castor were ten? Eleven? Got rescued by glaives and stuck in a Lucian orphanage. I guess we coulda gone to Accordo too but we'd been here so long, it wasn't home anymore.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. We were lucky. Luckier than the rest. Mom was already gone by then. And our dad was a shithead. We had a farm and he knew what to do with cows but not with kids. The other guys lost spouses, their kids, real families. I got to keep the only part of mine that was worth anything. Let's get back to work, huh?”

When they were all thoroughly wiped out -- Prompto sprawled dramatically on one of the training mats, Ignis leaning on one of his training lances, Pollux bent double over a stitch in his side – Gladio slung an arm around Ignis' shoulders. He didn't look remotely tired. That stamina deserved some attention on another evening. As usual, Gladio had thrown off his shirt, and the warm skin of his side radiated through Ignis' tank top.

“I dunno about you,” Gladio said. “But I could use a drink.”

Prompto lifted his head.

“Sorry kid. Not you.”

###

Since Ignis had committed to keeping Pollux out of trouble, Ignis joined Gladio and Pollux for drinks. Practically unthinkable with his schedule. Ignis had done his best but there wasn't much casual attire in his wardrobe. He'd settled for a grey marl T-shirt and his least dressy pair of trousers. Gladio, of course, looked not only appropriate but stunning in a pair of painted-on black trousers, lace-up boots, and a purple tank with feathery black designs that almost merged with the outline of the tattoo on his shoulders. Pollux looked like an innocent farmer's son with jeans rolled-up at the ankles and a gingham shirt open over a T-shirt bearing the name of what Ignis assumed was a band.

“You look very nice,” Ignis said.

“Hey Gladio, your man's hitting on me.”

They both laughed as Ignis stammered out a denial. Oh. A joke.

“Relax,” Pollux said. “You look good too.”

“So where'd you wanna go?” Gladio asked Pollux.

“Glory.”

He'd said it whip-quick. It was Gladio who hesitated. “Any better ideas?” He curled one arm protectively around Ignis' waist. “Since it's you, me, _and_ Iggy.”

“Nope.” Pollux pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. “I didn't save up all this for nothing.”

“I'm not taking Iggy to Glory.”

Pollux stared at Ignis as if he hadn't been there all along. He hid the wad of bills about his person. “Shit. Yeah. You're right.”

“What kind of establishment is Glory?” Ignis asked, as if the wad of bills hadn't made it perfectly clear.

They exchanged sheepish looks with each other.

“Gladio.”

Pollux was the one to crack. “Strip club,” he said, eventually.

Honestly, hadn't he given Gladio more than enough evidence that he wasn't a prude? “Let's go then.”

“Iggy, you don't have to--”

“Gladio. We are supposed to be keeping Pollux entertained. If that's where he wishes to go, then let's go.”

###

Ignis regretted his bold talk the moment they stepped inside and _why did this place have a buffet?_ Surely that was unhygienic. Chicken wings? Barbaric. Patrons would have greasy hands, which meant greasy notes, which they would then have to touch the stripper's bodies with. They should unionise about this.

“You ever get mistaken for a Glory boy?” Pollux asked Gladio.

“Eh, coupla times.” Gladio still had his arm wrapped around Ignis' waist. He rubbed Ignis' side as tension coiled in his body. “You okay?”

Pollux was heading in the direction of the buffet.

“Pollux, don't you dare get your hands greasy if you plan to touch anything or anyone in here!”

Pollux raised his hands. “Yes, sir! I can eat later.” He winked at them. “I'm gonna get a lapdance. You two have fun.” Pollux hurried to the area near the main stage.

Ignis wished he hadn't looked in that direction. It meant he got an eyeful of the man on stage, who was naked and hanging around a pole in a very revealing position. Not completely naked, Ignis registered faintly, a black garter was cinched around one thigh and stuffed with notes.

“You're way bendier than him,” Gladio said. “Bet you'd make a killing here.”

“Gladio!”

Gladio kissed the pulse point behind Ignis' ear, making his face burn hotter. “We can get Pollux and leave. You don't have to prove anything.”

“No.” If this was what it took to take Pollux's mind off Castor – it would be four days once midnight passed – then he'd stay. “I'm not... opposed to looking at naked men.”

“Let's see if my favourite's in tonight then.”

His favourite was a lean, gymnastic-looking man in thick glasses with messy dark hair. There was no resemblance facially but the overall style... Except that Ignis would never be caught dead in a pair of shorts that tiny and he would definitely have worn a shirt with the blazer and tie.

“Gladio!” The stripper flashed what appeared to be a genuine smile. “Been a while.”

“Hey Curtis. This is Iggy. He's new to all this.”

Curtis looked Ignis over with obvious appreciation. “You said he was hot but look at those cheekbones. Oh, and he blushes too! Cute.”

Gladio pulled Ignis more tightly against his side. “Easy now. He doesn't make a living from how hot he is.”

“Sorry, sorry. We do couple's lapdances, if you're interested? Just me or I can get someone else.”

Gladio looked to Ignis for permission. Curtis had a gap between his front teeth and smiled enough to show it off. He was certainly attractive. Ignis nodded. “Just yourself, please. If that's all right?”

“Course. Right this way.”

Ignis followed, hand-in-hand with Gladio. “How often did you come here that they know your name?”

“Hey. The glaives love it here. I didn't wanna be that cheap asshole who sits in the corner watching the show with his wallet clamped shut.”

There was a set of private rooms with a bouncer outside each door. Thankfully, the bouncer stayed outside. Ignis wasn't sure he could do this with an audience. Gladio was already taking money out to give to Curtis, Curtis protesting it was too much until Gladio finally convinced him to take it.

Ignis let Gladio guide him onto the curved, PVC couch that filled the room from end to end.

“How'd you want me?” Curtis asked.

“Focus on Iggy. I wanna watch. Uh... If that's okay with you, Iggy?”

Those damned puppy eyes again. Did Gladio know how they affected people? He nodded, not trusting his voice, sinking against the monstrous purple PVC couch. Curtis slid between his legs, dancing as close to him as he could without touching. The music pounded in Ignis' ears, or was that his heartbeat? Curtis slid off his blazer slowly, the tie snaking across his chest, moving over pecs dusted with glitter. Ignis swallowed. Curtis made a sinuous motion that almost brushed his chest against Ignis' lips. A flash of skin, glitter, and too-sweet cologne. He turned almost as quickly, hooking his fingers inside those tiny shorts.

Ignis risked a glance at Gladio, whose grin threatened to split his face in half.

Curtis looked over his shoulder as he pulled down the shorts, revealing a pair of pink briefs with a white trim. It accentuated each buttocks and his bulge when he turned around again. He did something impossibly flexible and his bulge was almost in Ignis' face, his thighs bracketing Ignis' head.

Still a hair's breath from touching. But that was what this was about, wasn't it? The tease. Imagining how easy it would be to mouth over the gyrating bulge in front of him but not being able to. Sharp sweat under sickly-sweat cologne. If this was Gladio he'd bury his nose in the hollow of one hip, inhaling the scent that was just him. Lick the sensitive skin there. Follow the defined line that delineated Gladio's hip from his pelvis.

Ignis was getting hard. How mortifying. His hands were by his side still since he hadn't known what to do with them. Gladio laced his hand through one of them.

“Okay.” Curtis got to his feet and backed away. “You're clearly not one hundred percent into it and I feel like a creep.”

“Actually--” The problem was that he might be a little too into it. “I'm sorry. I just don't quite know what to do with myself.”

“Relax,” Gladio said. “Enjoy it.” He patted his lap. 

“What are you doing?”

“C'mere. I'll show you how it's done.”

It should not have been as difficult as it was to sit in his own boyfriend's lap. He lowered himself slowly, like he was walking across quicksand. Gladio steadied him around the waist. “Ready?”

Ignis nodded again.

Curtis danced, although not so intimately as before. He moved like his spine was liquid, fluid from fingertips to toes. He was also wearing one of those garter belts. A white one. His thigh flexed under it when he lifted his foot onto the couch beside them.

“Just watch,” Gladio said, drawing Ignis back tighter against him. “Enjoy it.”

Curtis grinned. He wriggled his briefs down just a little, a peek of hair, then pulled them back up, down, up.

 _Just watch_.

Ignis relaxed. Gladio at his back was an anchor in an unfamiliar sea. He too was getting hard, nudging between Ignis' buttocks. Was that... allowed? He very much hoped it was because when Curtis finally pulled off the briefs, his own erection had to be obvious. Then Curtis ground his bare arse into Ignis' lap.

Gladio made a soft noise in Ignis' ear, enjoying the second-hand stimulation. Ignis gripped Gladio's thighs, fighting the instinct to grind back. Gladio grabbed his hips, holding them still as Curtis continued to torture him by sliding and grinding against him. His least dressy trousers were made of thin linen and he could feel Curtis' body heat through them. The space between his buttocks as he rubbed deliberately against Ignis' erection.

Curtis flipped himself, now standing on his hands, his legs splayed across Ignis' lap. Ignis shifted, making Gladio _mmm_. Ignis willed himself to think only about the show, to be mesmerised by the jiggling buttocks in front of him.

Gladio handed Ignis some notes. “Give him a tip, Iggy.”

It took him a few moments to remember what currency was. When he did, he pulled the garter back with his forefinger. Curtis stilled long enough for him to slide the notes inside. He tried his best not to touch but his fingers still brushed the warm skin, body glitter transferring onto his fingertips.

Curtis stood up, completely naked, and smiled at them. “Time's up. Unless you wanna buy another dance?”

“No! No thank you.” If this experience had taught him anything, it was that he preferred not to be teased. If a half-naked man was going to clamber all over him, then he'd better be prepared to fuck him afterwards. Ignis wriggled off Gladio's lap. He was still half-hard and Gladio's similar state wasn't helping.

“Hey,” Curtis said. “You did great. Glaives who can behave themselves are always welcome here.”

The phrasing made Ignis' attention catch on the sentence. “Some of the glaives don't behave themselves?”

“Usually just rowdy. Nothing I can't handle. Keep giving me their numbers like they don't have to pay to even look at me. Or can't take the hint I don't wanna date them.”

Usually. “Has a glaive named Albus been bothering you?”

“Is that the snooty-looking one? Brown hair? Always surrounded by a pack of dumb-asses?”

“Sounds like him.” Gladio was suddenly very large in his periphery. It was easy to forget how big Gladio actually was when Ignis saw him every day but he somehow seemed to get even bigger than Ignis remembered. The change of stance, Ignis realised, from relaxed to on guard. “He do something to you?”

“He got himself barred for trying to strip me himself.”

“You can report that to his commanding officer,” Ignis said. While Cor certainly wouldn't care that the glaives made drunken fools of themselves, he would care about an incident like that.

“I'm not gonna get the whole kingdom involved every time someone gets handsy. They've got bigger things to deal with. Like the war.”  
###

 

At least Pollux had been suitably distracted. He was grinning from ear to ear when they collected him and he had no money left. His eyes were overly bright, not quite focusing. Gladio had to keep correcting his course as he meandered through the streets.

“You ever do pole-dancing?” he asked Ignis, flopping against his side.

“Watch it!” Gladio said.

Pollux laughed. “Not being creepy. The way you move when you fight. It's all bendy-springy, like they are.”

“No, I have never pole-danced, nor do I intend to start.”

Pollux slung his arm over Ignis' shoulders. He made Ignis list slightly, still not walking in a straight line. “Buddy, you missed your vocation. One of the guys told me he makes six hundred a night. You could make more. Easy. You've got that whole sexy shy librarian thing going on.”

Gladio barged between them. Pollux only hung off his shoulder instead.

“Gladio. Gladio. Listen, Gladio. I got two lapdances at once. That's four butt cheeks!”

“That's neat, bud.”

“You should strip too! Be like – the pole! The other dancers could dance around you. Your ass is, like, majestic. Gladio. You listening? You could be the pole.”

“Sure, Pollux, I could be the pole.”

A picture of a stern-faced Gladio with strippers spinning around him floated into Ignis' mind. He tried not to laugh. “If you ever decide you no longer want to be a shield...”

“Quiet, you.”

Pollux put an arm around Gladio's waist to help keep himself upright. “Castor's never been to a strip club, Gladio. What if he never gets to go? What if he doesn't even get two butt cheeks when I had four?”

“Pretty sure Castor still doesn't want to go to any strip clubs.”

“My lil bro's out there all alone.”

“Sure. Just him, his commanding officer, and thirty other glaives.”

“Gladio. We should go back to yours. Me and you and Ignis--”

“And get you some water then put you on the couch to sleep it off?”

“And fuck! Oh nooooooooooo...” He shoved away, doubled over, and vomited in the gutter.

###

Giving him some water and putting him to bed was exactly what they did. Ignis left some painkillers on the bedside table, sure he'd need them in the morning.

“You didn't have to give that little cock-blocker your bed,” Gladio said, from where he'd settled on that couch. “He deserves the rug outside the door for trying to muscle his way into a threesome.”

“He's drunk.”

“He's outta control. I hope Castor kicks his ass when he gets back.”

“If Castor comes back.”

“Gods, Iggy!”

Lying to themselves didn't help anyone. Gladio was just as terribly aware as Ignis was about the state of things outside their wall. Some of what the glaives had yelled at him was true. He didn't have to risk anything, and wouldn't for a long time yet. The only thing he had to protect was Noct, who was a child still, with no worry greater than his maths exams. He would give his life gladly for Noct but he would never be expected to give it for another country, for a country that had sacrificed his in the name of the greater good, a king that had abandoned him. And though he understood the necessity, Regis had abandoned them, and Ignis and Gladio were part of that system.

Ignis laid his head on Gladio's shoulder.

“We'll kick the Niffs' asses one day,” Gladio said. “Then we'll make it up to everyone who lost something.”

Ignis kissed him, taking the comfort and the comforting lies he could provide.

###

Ignis was outside just minutes after the report that the mission had been successful and the glaives were due to return. There'd been a few minor casualties – mild burns and the like – and no fatalities. Cor was also there to greet them, beaming like a proud mother. He greeted a few of them. The glaives were cheering and chatting, all lively and alive. He picked up Castor's face in the crowd. He didn't look as elated as the rest of his cohort, face scrunched up in very serious contemplation of something. Until Pollux tackled him to the ground, giving him a hug so fierce Castor yelled at him to get off.

Ignis searched out another face. Felix also didn't look like he was celebrating a great victory. He was keeping his distance from the other glaives. Not injured. Ignis didn't think so anyway, but he wore a very serious expression.

“Felix,” Ignis said, catching his attention as he passed. “What happened?”

Felix looked past him to where Albus was surrounded by more glaives than usual. Every one that passed him slapped him on the back or high-fived him. Others stopped to talk. All grinning. Albus grinned too, like a cat who'd eaten a full-sized cockatrice.

“What did he do to you?”

“To me? I'm not his type.”

That made Ignis' insides freeze. “Castor?” There had to be a reason he'd been so upset.

“No, no. Nothing like that. About half of us got surrounded by magiteks and he did some huge electrical burst thing that made their suits cut out. He saved our asses. He's a fucking hero.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has absolutely nothing to do with anything that happens in this chapter but in my mind Felix looks like an older version of Jason Vario with more hair. NSFW if you wanna Google him. Also, there is more Gladio/Ignis sexytimes here with spanking and a slight D/S vibe. If that's not your jam feel free to skip the third scene.

“I'm getting a medal,” Castor said, in the tones of one declaring he was going to be marched outside, shoved against a wall, and shot.

Ignis had hoped to take Castor's mind off things by taking him out to coffee, which also served to get him out from under Pollux's watchful eye. He quite understood Pollux's concern but he could also see how it was wearing on their relationship. Pollux needing to protect his brother, and Castor needing space. In fact, Ignis had already known about the medal, since he'd been involved in arranging the ceremony. No matter how much livery they put up, the whole event would be tarnished because they had to celebrate Albus. They'd all be forced to stand and clap when Albus received his very own medal and a personal thanks from the king.

Castor sat glumly at the table, watching his coffee grow cold.

“A medal?” Ignis said, as if he wasn't aware of everything right down to the floor plans.

“Yeah. For bravery, just like Albus. Except I only saved a couple of guys. Not half the squad.”

“That's still a worthy achievement.”

“I know, it's just...” Castor sighed. “I didn't exactly wanna be murdered by MTs either but it's a hollow victory, knowing I have to be grateful to Albus for something.”

Quite. “However it happened, I'm glad that you're safe.”

“Yeah, me too. Hope Pollux wasn't too much hassle while I was gone.”

Ignis blushed before he could stop himself. He wouldn't cheat on Gladio and he certainly wouldn't have slept with anyone that drunk, but threesomes had entered his fantasies once or twice since Pollux had suggested it.

“Oh no. Did he hit on you?”

“It's nothing. He was very drunk.”

“Yeah, I assumed. At least he didn't go really wild and try and get into Marshall Leonus' pants or something. He pisses him off so often I'm starting to think he likes getting disciplined by him.”

Ignis lifted his coffee cup to his face to hide how red it had gotten because of that comment. He really did not need the mental image of Cor disciplining Pollux and him liking it. Not when he'd barely even had a chance to clap his eyes on Gladio recently, and his hand didn't take the edge off.

“What if Albus hurts Pollux?”

Now that cooled Ignis off. “I won't allow that to happen.”

“You can't always be there to stop it. We can't-- It's not like we can report Albus anymore, not after he fought like that. We'd be taking away a huge asset.”

“Of course you can report him, and should.”

“Insomnia sacrificed Galahd, _all_ of Galahd, for a better shot at survival. Do you really think they're going care what Albus does so long as he keeps wiping out MTs?”

“Insomnia did not sacrifice Galahd. Regular supplies and patrols are dispatched to them.”

“Yeah and how's that going? How about Rossily? When's the last time you heard anything from either of them? I understand why Insomnia did it but don't pretend supplies or patrols can do anything for them now, or that your king didn't let them get massacred.”

“King Regis--”

“Don't. Don't sit in front of me and defend him. I wasn't born inside the wall, remember?”

At a press conference, Ignis would know exactly what to say. He'd express his regrets and his continued support for the territories outside the wall. He'd say each and every citizen was as much a part of Lucis as those within Insomnia. Words that rang hollow when he was looking at Castor's face, speaking from within the wall. King Mors was the one who'd shrunk its protection, and Regis could not expand it, but he doubted that would be a fruitful discussion.

“My apologies, Castor.”

Castor took a sip of his coffee, found it to be clay cold and pulled a face. “I'm sorry too but I am right. Protecting Insomnia's always going to be more important than one person.”

###

For his sanity, Ignis had to reject it. He knew Regis and his endless compassion for his people. All of his people. Knew Clarus and his stern but paternal hand, guiding the citadel much like he guided Gladio. Knew that both Noctis and Gladio were growing into the moulds shaped by their fathers. That the only time Noct was truly, energetically enthused about his duties was when he was begging funds for reparations or shelters. That Gladio would always stand between others and injustice, literally if he had to.

The Citadel didn't have the issues of systematic abuse so common among other powerful organisations. Where corruption was found it was exposed, routed, and excised. Which was why men like Cor rose to the top there and not men like Albus or Eldridge.

But he also knew that more often than not, politicians asked him if he was Tenebrean. That although he was fully an Insomnian citizen, the question of his heritage was never dropped. That although it had passed, members of the council had opposed the bill to allow glaives to apply for the crownsguard after ten years of service. That members of that same council had expected him to satisfy Eldridge's sick demands, and he wondered if they'd have expected the same if Ignis' father had not been Tenebrean.

Regis may be a good man but by its nature, could a government ever be good?

“Hypothetically,” Ignis said, as he was helping Noct with his homework. “If a member of the crownsguard was abusing his underlings, but that crownsguard was instrumental in driving back Niflheim, what action would you take as king?”

“That a joke?” Noct asked, barely looking up from the maths problem he was poring over. “I'd kick him out.”

Perhaps it really was that simple.

###

The very second Gladio turned up at Ignis' apartment, he pulled his tank top over his head. He grinned and lifted his arms. “Missed me?”

“You've been positively torturing me by lingering in my peripheral vision.” Ignis snapped the buttons of Gladio's trousers open, and yanked the zipper down.

“And whose fault's that?”

He pulled Gladio's trousers down, tugging at them impatiently when Gladio didn't immediately step out of them. “Yours, obviously.”

“That so? Cause you don't have to be at every meeting the citadel hosts, right up to deciding what kinda serviettes the Leiden ambassadors should have with their lunch.”

Ignis tutted, and tapped on Gladio's ankle until he got the idea and stepped out of the trousers. “I'll have you know that serviettes have been at the centre of no less than three heated arguments between visiting diplomats, and that I attend every meeting I'm able to because our piecemeal bureaucracy often doesn't anticipate a problem until all of our municipal staff are on strike. Someone has to pay attention to the cleaners and the binmen.”

“Seems like that someone shouldn't be just you. _Seems like_ some of the council are taking advantage because their heads are so far up their asses, they think they're better than the guys who take out their trash.”

Ignis peered up at him from his knees. Gladio was already hard, his cock beyond prominent in the pair of ridiculously tiny couerl-print briefs he wore. “Do you really wish to waste time discussing this?”

In answer, Gladio picked Ignis up and folded him over the back of the couch. Before Ignis could blink, he'd delivered a ringing slap to both of Ignis' still-clothed arse cheeks. Ignis gasped, his hard cock now trapped uncomfortably between the couch and his clothing.

Ignis couldn't sort the arousal from the shock and Gladio spanked him twice more, so hard he was amazed the seat of his trousers wasn't aflame. The skin underneath was raw. He hissed at the friction of the fabric with every small shift of his body. Really, the raw strength in just the palm of Gladio's hand was astounding.

“That's for the meeting about gods-damned taps,” Gladio said. He undid Ignis trousers and pulled them off with one sharp tug, taking his underwear with them. “And I dunno if you can even take what I wanna dish out for the one about reseeding the fucking planters in front of the main gates.”

“I can take anything you dish out.”

Gladio growled, the sound tingling up and down Ignis' spine. There was a brief flash of blue armiger light and then he thrust two lubed fingers inside Ignis. Ignis squirmed, the sudden shock of pleasure overlaid on his throbbing, stinging skin. Gladio rubbed his prostate, jolting him, rubbing his cock against the pressure of the couch. Then used his spare hand to rain down a succession of blows on his arse that made him keen, his eyes watering hard enough that tears caught in his eyelashes, while he continued to brutalise his prostate.

It was too much. High crescendos of pleasure and constant diminuendos of delicious pain, until he couldn't separate one from the other. Sparks were painted on the inside of his eyelids. He came across the sofa, too mad with excitement to even worry about the upholstery.

He moaned as Gladio's fingers slid free. “You okay?”

“No. You haven't fucked me yet.”

Another growl and Gladio was parting his stinging arse cheeks with both hands, driving his cock between them. The slick head dragged over Ignis' hole in an intolerable tease until he finally pressed inside.

He held Ignis fast, squeezing bruises deep into the muscles of his rear as Ignis tried to push back and take all of it at once.

“You really think you deserve that after you blew me off to talk about unclogging a fountain?”

Ignis hooked a leg around one of Gladio's, trying to encourage him to give him more. It struck him as unfair that Gladio was still so coherent while he was utterly wrecked. The shirt he was still wearing clung to the sweat on his back. He made a low-pitched noise, all he was capable of, trying to convey that actually yes, he thought he did deserve it. And what's more, he deserved it exactly because he'd attend a meeting about a clogged fountain just in case it turned out to be pertinent in a meeting about the future of the kingdom.

“You're lucky I like that about you.” Gladio slammed into him with all of his strength, hips hitting almost as hard as the spanks earlier.

Ignis cried out, cock filling again. He tried to slam back just as eagerly but Gladio still held him, only thrusting when he felt like it. Driving his cock so deeply and perfectly into Ignis that he drew out high, desperate sounds from him. Making him louder and louder until he was babbling about _how good, how big_ , how much he wanted Gladio to mark him, to fill him up with his come.

And Gladio did, stroking Ignis' cock as he punched his hips against Ignis' arse, and came so much it leaked around his cock. Which made Ignis' orgasm hit too, spilling into Gladio's hand.

Gladio kissed his sweat-ruined hair and the back of his neck as they both came down from it, slumped together over the back of the couch.

“Gods, Iggy.” Gladio eased out of him, gently setting his legs back on the floor. “That was...”

Ignis turned around and straightened himself up. “Are you finished already?”

Gladio scooped him up, laughing when Ignis wrapped his legs around his waist. “Hell no.”

###

Prompto tended to be awestruck around glaives and crownsguard alike and it was for that reason, Ignis was glad he hadn't been allowed to attend the awards ceremony. Ignis had even been spared Noct's wrath because the order came from over his head. Regis considered Prompto too young to be around a bunch of rowdy, celebrating glaives. All for the best, since Prompto and his hero worship could not be allowed anywhere near Albus. Albus, who was now shaking hands with King Regis, contriving to look flustered by all the attention.

Ignis had to cut off the reflex to summon his daggers when Noct also shook his hand and exchanged words that Ignis couldn't hear with him. On the stage, Gladio inched a little closer, Noct and Regis both oblivious. Everyone eased off when they turned their attentions to Castor.

Ignis spared a smile for him, bright red under his freckles as Regis pinned the medal to his lapel. Despite his harsh words on the matter a couple of days ago, he certainly seemed starstruck in the presence of Regis. The glaives – unbound by the etiquette that had been drummed into Gladio and Ignis since childhood – whooped, cheered and cat-called throughout both the presentation and the speeches.

The free alcohol without a cut-off may have been a mistake. Certainly every glaive Ignis spoke to at the after-party was at least tipsy.

Inevitably, Albus cornered him. And it was an actual cornering. Ignis between a picked-clean buffet table and a wall, Albus in front of his exit unless he wanted to crawl under the table.

“Not gonna thank me, Scientia?”

“For doing your job? Hardly.”

“For saving your little friend. Sure you wouldn't want Felix to fuck you if he'd had his face blasted off.”

As aware as he was that he shouldn't rise to this sort of thing, he still had to clench his teeth to stop himself snapping back. He unclenched them to take a sip from his champagne flute. The one drink he'd allowed himself this evening.

Albus touched his bicep. To a passerby it would look like a casual gesture. Friendly even. But he squeezed the muscle there, his fingers stroking along Ignis' suit jacket. He nearly got dashed with the remains of Ignis' champagne, despite what a scene it would make.

“I like what a spitfire you are.”

“I don't give a damn what you like. Remove your fingers before I break them.”

Electricity buzzed faintly beneath Albus' fingertips but he dragged them away, touch lingering until it was eventually removed. He was still inside Ignis' personal space, practically chest to chest with him. The maddening urge to violence under Ignis' skin. The stem of his glass threatened to snap in his hand.

“I bet you'd break down like a dying star.”

“And you'd break like soggy bread.” Ignis thumped forward, so he was the one invading Albus' personal space. The urge to throttle him practically oozed from his pores. “The truly powerful inspire loyalty. You inspire nothing. Your allies would take the flimsiest excuse to escape from under your thumb.” Albus gave him a bemused grin that Ignis dearly wanted to rip from his face. “You take because no one would freely give you anything. Everything you have is meaningless because none of it was earned.”

“Your tongue won't be this sharp when it's wrapped around my cock.”

The stem of his champagne flute did break then, spilling champagne down his front and shattering glass across their feet.

“Calm down, Scientia.”

###

After fetching a dustpan and brush for the glass, Ignis had been soundly told off by one of the cleaners and told he would take care of it. Then he'd been accosted by Councillor Armand, who wanted to discuss – something or other. The evening had been such a whirlwind of being passed between one dignitary after another, he could scarcely remember who'd wanted to discuss what. He'd barely had time to button his jacket up tightly over his shirt to disguise the champagne stains. No doubt he'd be reminded in the follow-up emails tomorrow morning.

The party wound down and Ignis excused himself to the bathroom. He stripped to his undershirt and tried to scrub out the worst of the stains before they became part of the fabric. One of Albus' lackies entered while he was busy and Ignis followed his movements in the mirror, but he only headed for one of the stalls.

Ignis threw his still-damp shirt back over his shoulders and re-buttoned it. Then his jacket, which he again closed over the problem. He headed back into the ballroom. Noct and Regis had long since retired, Clarus and Gladio accompanying them back to their rooms. There were still glaives scattered around, making the most of the free drinks, and Crownsguard stationed around the room, but no one who he could reasonably expect to bother him.

He checked his mobile phone. 01:45. Which was reason enough for him to head to bed.

He gave the room one last look-over just in case. Castor heaved Pollux to his feet, gently scolding him for getting falling-down-drunk, and half-carried him out of the room. One of the glaives that had been drinking with Albus peeled off and headed in the same direction. The rest of Albus' group started to disperse, leaving from different exits. Ostensibly, they were all heading in different directions.

However, if one had memorised the citadel's layout – as Ignis had – one could see them in their mind's eye, as Ignis did now, all converging on the same spot.

Castor and Pollux would likely be returning to their barracks. There was surveillance along that entire route within the Citadel but no one would flag up other glaives heading in the same direction, reasonably assuming they were heading for bed themselves. And the trainee glaives' barracks were some way outside the citadel. They were bussed in for training and official functions. Ignis had arranged for that same bus to run between the Citadel and barracks half-hourly until 08:00, reasoning that they didn't want heavily inebriated glaives rampaging through Insomnia's streets.

There was a good half an hour's walk between the citadel and that bus stop with the only CCTV likely to be whatever store happened to invest in it.

Ignis followed by the most direct route, keeping Castor and Pollux in his eyeline at all times. So far he'd seen no sign of the other glaives. He texted Gladio. _Albus is up to something with Castor and Pollux. They're heading to the barracks. I'm in pursuit. _After a moment's hesitation, he sent the same message to Cor. It was far better for them to be unharmed and furious with him than the alternative.__

____

____

They made it all the way to the bus stop unmolested. Should Ignis warn them? The bored driver was sitting hunched over a newspaper and a paper cup of coffee. He waved Castor and Pollux onto the bus and waited for more arrivals. If Albus and his gang got on the bus and followed them back to the barracks...

But they didn't. There was no sign of them, in fact, and the bus pulled away after twenty minutes with only Castor and Pollux on it. Ignis stared after it. Then realised he was quite alone, in a deserted bus stop that usually held dozens of jostling glaives, with another bus not scheduled to arrive for another half an hour. Which was odd in itself. Surely other glaives wanted to get back and sleep while there was still some night left.

He picked up his pace as he walked back, pulling out his mobile phone to type out another message. He got as far as _I'm--_ before a bolt of lightning knocked the phone clean out of his hand, and dashed it warped and melted against the opposite wall.

There were several blue flashes as glaives warped all around them. A dozen men he recognised and could name because he'd wrote every single one of them down in his notebook when Mensa confessed.

They were in one of Insomnia's main shopping district's narrow streets. Through the day it would be heaving with wealthy patrons on the hunt for designer goods. At this time of night, all of the shutters were down and it was deserted, even the bars long closed.

Ignis summoned his daggers only moments before he was struck from every direction with the shafts of polearms, the hilts of swords, unidentified projectiles, and another burst of electricity that made his whole body seize then crumple. His daggers skittered from his hands.

He healed himself, flipped and jumped, vaulting over one of the glaives by planting a foot on his shoulder. He summoned his spare daggers as he leapt. Three glaives warped around him, bringing him down with successive strikes to his spine and the backs of his legs. He fell heavily in the street, skinning his chin as he opted to keep his grip on his daggers rather than stop himself. He swiped wildly as he got back to his feet.

Someone dropped a hood over his head. The rough canvas scraped over his face as they pulled it tight and robbed him of air. Of reason. Someone pulled a drawstring tight around his neck. He dropped his spare daggers and scrabbled at the string. He kicked as he tried to free himself from the hood and struck someone in the stomach.

Space. He needed more space. He summoned his lance and jabbed it back and forth until he heard the footfalls retreat around him. Then he tore at the hood but the harder he dug, the tighter it got.

He summoned a dagger again, meaning to slash it open, but another burst of electricity knocked him to the ground. This one made his chest seize, made him gasp for the scarce air inside the hood.

Frantic, he summoned another lance, only to have it disappear from his grip. Dematerialised. One of the other glaives must have returned it, since they shared the same armiger. Ignis ripped at the hood again, trying to punch holes in it with his fingers. 

Someone stamped down heavily on his face and hands. The bridge of his nose crunched underneath the tread of their boots. The back of his throat filled up with blood. All the more difficult to breathe around.

_No. No. No._

He gave himself one last, pointless heal but his already dark world inside the hood had narrowed to a pinpoint. Two last heaving breaths that sucked the canvas into the hollow of his mouth, and he was gone.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me reading the comments on the last chapter: elmofirebackground.gif
> 
> Seriously, though, thanks so much for commenting and kudosing. I appreciate it so much. Hopefully this chapter makes up for the cliffhanger.
> 
> Warning: this is a rough one. Nonconsensual kissing and spanking but the noncon stuff doesn't go beyond that. Further warnings for graphic violence and torture.

Healing magic woke Ignis. Mensa's face swam in front of him, only coming into vague focus when the healing was complete. They'd removed his glasses, which explained some of the fuzziness. He lurched and four sets of thick rope snapped like a thunder crack. They rasped over his wrists and ankles. They'd moored the ropes binding his wrists to exposed joists in the ceiling, and his ankles to support beams. He could summon his daggers but he wouldn't have the range of motion to strike with them or throw them, and besides that they had access to the same armiger. Destroying the things he was attached to was out of the question. He could bring the whole building down upon himself. Which meant the rope itself was his best bet.

It was around five inches in diameter at its thickest, tapering to thinner cords where they'd tightened it around each wrist. It was already biting into his skin, making his fingertips numb. Since his daggers were out of the question, he'd have to use magic. Fire posed a risk to his hands. There was the same issue with ice or lightning. Perhaps he could--

“Castor's reaction was cuter,” Sella said.

“Yeah, it was,” Albus said. “He was like a baby deer. But Scientia's made of sterner stuff. Aren't you?”

Their prattling was irrelevant. Albus' lackies were sitting in small groups, drinking, and tossing the bottles when they'd drained them. The floor was thick with dust and now shattered glass thanks to the glaives, made yet more perilous because of the condition it was in. Rotten floorboards and gaps that showed the foundations. They'd also taken Ignis' shoes so he'd have to watch his feet if he ran or rely on the scant protection of a pair of thick woollen socks.

It must be a derelict warehouse which narrowed his location down. Thirty years ago families had fled, terrified, into central Insomnia as the wall shrank and people still feared it would shrink again. There were very few abandoned buildings in Insomnia thanks to their reclamation efforts and the ever-expanding need for housing for refugees but they hadn't finished reconstructing everything. The glaives must have driven here out from the citadel. Six hours at least. Which didn't matter. If he could get free, he could get back.

“He isn't scared,” Sella said, like a child denied a lollipop.

“Cause he doesn't think we can hurt him.” Albus snatched a beer bottle from one of his lackies – Tectum, Ignis was cataloguing every name, face and deed – took a swig, then held it up to Ignis' mouth. “Drink”

Ignis jerked his face away the moment the lip of the bottle touched him. Beer slopped out, smelling sickly. Albus righted it and finished the bottle in a couple of swigs. “Suit yourself.” He tossed the bottle behind him, sending a couple of the other glaives scattering. He untucked Ignis' shirt from his trousers, grinning into Ignis' face as he tried to shift away from the grazing touches to his hips. Once it was free, he plucked at the buttons of Ignis' shirt, opening them one by one. He snorted when all it revealed was a grey undershirt. “You an old man or something?”

 _Give them nothing_ , Cor had said, when he gave Ignis and Gladio their lecture about how to endure under torture. _Some people do that with inane chatter. I prefer silence. If you start talking, who's to say you'll stop at inane?_

Advice he'd expected to take at the hands of the empire. Not his allies. He stared back at Albus, hoping he conveyed exactly how tiresome he was.

“Sella. You've always got a knife on you. Hand it over.”

Sella bounded up to them, knife already in hand. “Can I--?”

“No.” Albus snatched it. He sliced through Ignis' undershirt, then hacked at the sleeves of his jacket, until he could strip Ignis to the waist. “Damn. If I was your king, I'd never let you wear clothes.”

The other glaives – who'd been sitting chatting among themselves as if a strung-up Ignis was as unremarkable as the support beams – were all watching now. Though Ignis could control his voice and his expression, he couldn't control the automatic reactions of his body. A flush crept all the way from his chest to his cheeks. The force of all of the eyes on him was percussive, bouncing along every cord of muscle, every part of his hard-earned definition. Some of them were practically leering. Sella, still sticking close by, looked like he may drool.

Ignis and Gladio were children when Cor had given them that talk. He'd never mentioned anything like this.

The ropes kept Ignis splayed. He could barely move an inch in any direction. He wobbled against them, the ropes like a plucked guitar string as he tried to flinch away from Albus grabbing at his fly.

It was the same magic as infusing his daggers. Ignis grasped the ropes as best he could with dead fingertips as sent fire through them. They didn't burn. They heated up but the absorbed the flame.

“Nice try,” Albus said, as Ignis hissed at the heat. “It's made of glass fibres. Flame retardant. But keep heating it up, I dare you. I'm sure Sella'd love to see what you do when it eventually melts onto your wrists.”

He couldn't risk the nerve damage. Not to his hands. They knew he couldn't.

“Thanks for telling Mensa about the armiger inventory by the way. Meant we knew to stockpile stuff the old-fashioned way. Aren't you meant to be some kinda strategist? Some kinda royally-appointed strategist? Must suck to be out-manoeuvred every step of the way by commoners, huh?”

Albus yanked Ignis' trousers down his thighs and left them hanging around his ankles, his briefs on display.

Wolf-whistles, cheers, and demands to “take 'em off” filled the room. Albus twirled the knife, gave it a flourish, and then cut off the rest of Ignis' clothing. Left him completely exposed. Ignis tried to squeeze his knees together, only to have the ropes spring back, rasping over his ankles.

“Castor cried when we stripped him,” Sella said.

Albus smacked the back of his head. “Will you shut up about Castor? Why don't you marry him if you miss him so much?”

 _They'll look for vulnerabilities_ , Cor had said. _Don't show them any._

Which had all seemed so simple in the safety of conference room C, with Cor the Immortal standing by. Ignis had known that no matter what happened to him, he would protect the kingdom. Protect Noct. But Noct wasn't in danger. There was no purpose to this.

“You've got a real pretty dick, Scientia. How often does Gladio suck it?”

Gladio. He'd texted Gladio and Cor. How long before they reached Castor and Pollux? Figured out they hadn't been the targets?

Albus tucked the point of his knife under Ignis' chin, pricking the vulnerable skin there. “You bite or spit and I'll drive this up through your skull.”

Up until then only Felix and Gladio had ever kissed him. This was the polar opposite of that. Every part of him wanted to yank his head away even if Albus did slit his throat. It wasn't worth making a stand just to avoid it, he told himself, as Albus smashed their lips together. He bit the corners of Ignis' mouth like he was trying eat Ignis' face rather than kiss him. His lips were bitten and bruised when he finished, his tongue bleeding where he'd bitten that too.

“There.” Albus kept the knife under his chin, forcing Ignis to keep his head raised. “That's a nicer face.”

“What do you hope to achieve here?” Ignis asked.

“Do you remember that offer I made you?”

How could he forget? Let them violate him or have his life made a living hell. “That wasn't an offer, that was a threat.”

“Whatever. Last chance, Scientia. Let us fuck you. It won't be that bad, right? Not after taking Gladio every night. Or we'll fuck you up so badly you'll be useless to your cute little prince.”

Let them? He could hardly stop them in this state. But Albus had played this game all along. Somewhere in the gnarled, twisted valleys of his mind, he required the illusion of consent. And wasn't it a game sexual predators often played? _He never actually said no, officer, so how could I have known he didn't want it?_ Or the subtler kinds, hammering at a person's resistance until hundreds of nos became one yes. How many times had Albus done this? How often had it worked?

“No.” Ignis said it loud enough for every damn one of them to hear. “No. I'll never allow any of you to lay your filthy hands on me.”

“We'll see, Scientia. Castor was begging us to fuck him in the end. Too bad he looked like a tenderised ham by then.”

Albus removed the knife. A trickle of blood crawled down Ignis' throat. Ignis glanced at Mensa. Who'd insisted he never hurt Castor. He was still close by but turned away. Coward.

“Hey,” Albus said. “You know another good thing about these ropes? They don't conduct electricity.”

The only reason Ignis didn't scream was that his jaw fused shut. The electricity ripped through him from his scalp to the beds of his toe-nails, scorching across the surface of his skin. Spittle flew out between his teeth. His heart strained, popping in his chest like tin in a microwave, sharp pain spiking out under his ribcage

When it was over, he sagged in his bonds, unable to believe that the shock hadn't killed him. Over every inch of skin he could see, dark lines like the impressions of tree branches spread. 

“Mensa. Fix him up.”

Mensa caught Ignis' chin in both hands and kissed him while he was too addled to resist. It was gentle, physically. Certainly more gently than Albus had been. Perhaps Mensa had been gentle with Castor but he was still a vile opportunist like the rest of them and it was still humiliating. Ignis would rather have passed out than had to feel this part. Mensa healed Ignis with those same hands on his chin until the pain receded, and took plenty more kisses until then.

“No,” Ignis said, as he tried to press their lips together again. “Mensa. I don't want--”

“Shhhh. Just take it, okay? You can keep Castor, Pollux, and Felix safe if you're good. If you're not...”

“Sella.” Albus pointed a finger. Mensa sat down in the spot indicated like a trained dog. “Mensa's a wimp. Why don't you tell Scientia what happens if he's bad?”

Sella ran his hands down Ignis' bare sides, raising gooseflesh as he did. “They won't get back from our next deployment. We'll split them off, take out their kneecaps, and let the Niffs have them. It's so chaotic on the battlefield, no one'll ever know.”

No. They wouldn't. They couldn't. These were just scare tactics. They'd say anything to ensure Ignis' compliance and then delight in him being witless enough to believe them.

“It doesn't matter how you try to coerce me. I will never let you violate me.”

Sella moved behind him. Ignis wrenched his neck trying to turn it to see what he was up to. “Just as well. Pollux helped us, you know. Said it was better you than Castor.”

“That's a lie.”

“And that's wishful thinking. You were worried about him, right? Him and Castor trying to drag his dead drunk brother home. I'm telling you that Pollux was stone cold sober and he got you out here for us. Shame he cut that deal. I'd much rather have Castor here. He cried and begged. You're no fun.”

“Pollux wouldn't. He wouldn't.”

“Would he not? Thought you two were buddies. If you know him at all, you should know he'd do anything to protect his brother.”

“You're lying!”

“Whatever helps you feel better, sweet cheeks.” Sella smacked Ignis arse with his open palm.

When Gladio had done this-- No. He couldn't let this intrude on the precious few moments he had with Gladio. All Sella's hands on him provoked was a revulsion so strong his genitals tried to crawl inside his body. Which Albus, still standing in front of him, chuckled at.

“Thought you were into the rough stuff, Scientia?”

_Give them nothing._

“Hey Murus. You bring it?”

One of the other glaives got to his feet. He was trailing a flogger with several long leather tails, each one tipped with a small silver buckle. Ignis had seen such things before. Late night internet searches combined with a healthy curiosity. He'd even imagined what they might feel like on himself, or imagined using them on a partner. But he'd envisioned the softer suede varieties. Not something like this. It looked hard and cheaply made. The faux leather already cracking from handling. Some of the buckles rusted and coming loose. It looked unsafe. Which he supposed was the point.

Murus avoided Ignis' gaze as he handed it over to Albus. “Don't pussy out, Murus.”

“But--”

“Do it before I turn it on you.”

“It'll leave marks.”

“So? You can't get it up for a guy with some marks?”

“It's evidence.”

Ah. So his reluctance had nothing to do with the act itself. Only the fear of getting caught. Albus yanked the flogger from Murus' hands and flailed it at him. He leapt back, narrowly avoiding getting the brunt of it in the face. It made a noise like a car backfiring, the buckles rattling as the tails fell back into place.

“You weren't complaining when you were carving up Castor.”

“Castor's not the king's pet!”

“Fucking hell. Murus, you came here for a chance at fucking Scientia in the ass. You were planning on leaving plenty evidence in there, so don't give me that. Get it done. You, and every single one of you idiots, are gonna give him at least two strikes. Got it?”

Murus took the flogger when it was offered this time. He joined Sella behind Ignis.

Ignis braced himself for the impact but the flogger fell softly, the tails only brushing his back. He supposed he should be grateful for Murus' lack of enthusiasm in this but that was hard to muster after hearing that it was because he would rather rape him.

“Put your back into it,” Sella said.

The next strike was harder but it barely stung. The tails rolled down Ignis' back and buttocks.

“Pathetic,” Albus said. “Sella, show him how it's done.”

The exchange was brief. Then Sella unleashed the flogger against Ignis' upper back. The blows thumped him forward, the bonds at his wrists and ankles straining. Each tail hit with a burning sting and wrapped around his sides. The buckles were an extra bruising slap. Welts were already raising on Ignis' back as Sella retracted it.

Ignis managed to let out more than a harsh exhale. It hurt, yes, but what was pain compared to the alternative?

 _You two are tough_ , Cor had said. _You wouldn't be here if you weren't. But everyone's got their limits._

Each successive round of blows got lower, welts criss-crossing Ignis from his shoulders to his knees. The knees hurt especially. They tried to buckle but the bonds held his legs straight so the strain caught his kneecaps. He was lucky they didn't break. But it passed as Sella moved down his calves and to his ankles. Ignis inhaled. He exhaled. Breathing through it, like he would stretching a strained muscle.

“Next!”

Every single glaive flogged him. Some more enthusiastically than others. The harder blows broke the skin. His back was a leaking mess by the time the sixth glaive took his turn. Specks of blood rained down along with the blows. Some of the buckles broke off in his back by the seventh. The eighth's blows dug them deeper inside. Some fell out by the tenth. No skin left to hold them. Albus had to be hitting pulp by the time he took his turn.

He whistled through his teeth. “Told them you were made of sterner stuff. Mensa, come fix this. And lay off his ass. I don't wanna have to fuck an axe wound.”

Mensa had flogged him too. Two sloppy blows that missed most of him. He healed what he could but Ignis could still see blood pooling at his ankles when he'd finished. Ignis bolstered it with his own healing but it wouldn't be enough. He'd have scarring at least.

“Fuck,” Mensa said, touching a particularly sore spot under Ignis' right shoulder blade and trying to heal it. “How didn't you scream?”

 _Scream, cry_ , Cor said. _You've got no one to impress. Make them think it's worse than it is so you've still got something left to give when you get the opportunity to escape. And if you're screaming, you're not saying anything they can use._

But Ignis couldn't give Albus the satisfaction of seeing him undone.

“Another round,” Albus said.

Which meant the more enthusiastic floggers went first. There were globs of skin among the mess at his feet. Bloody, split buckles. The glaives that wanted to flog him jostled each other, each trying to grab at the flogger. Some of the others weren't looking anymore.

They got to ten more blows before the door burst in.

Gladio charged through first, sword and shield already drawn. They disappeared as someone had the forethought to dismiss them to the armiger. Which was pointless. Gladio descending on them with his bare hands and a howl of pure, animal fury was an army in himself. And he was clever. He dismissed their weapons too.

He was followed by Cor, Felix, Castor, and Pollux.

Ignis closed his eyes and let himself sag in his bonds. The noise of the fight washed over him. The blue streaks of warps and weapons behind his eyelids. He'd lost a lot of blood and he was still bleeding. He wasn't sure how long he could stay awake. His hands and feet were completely bloodless. He couldn't feel them and he hoped it hadn't been so long that it was too late.

“Iggy. Shit. Iggy.” Gladio held the parts of his waist he dared touch. Ignis' head lolled onto his shoulder. “Get him down! It's okay, Iggy. It's over. Shit! Hurry it up.”

The others freed him limb by numb limb, until it was only Gladio supporting him. His hair was tacky when Gladio ran his hands through it, though Ignis didn't remember being hit in the head.

One of them cracked a potion over his back. Then another. Ignis lacked the energy to see who it was. Their voices mingled together and faded. Ignis buried his face in Gladio's shoulder, breathed in his comforting scent, and let his consciousness go.

###

When Ignis drifted awake the first time, he was in a bed. Gladio was sitting by his side, eyes red and puffy. Ignis tried to tell him everything was okay but exhaustion pulled him back under.

The second time, Gladio's chair was empty and there were raised voices outside his door.

“Let me see him!”

Noct? Ignis tried to sit up but only sank further into the mattress. There was an IV attached to his arm. A heart monitor. He couldn't quite gather the coordination to detach them.

“He needs to rest. And he wouldn't want you to see him like this, Noct.”

Which was an odd thing for Gladio to say. He was fine. A little fuzzy on some details but fine. He tried to say so but it was a vast effort and sent him back to sleep.

When he woke the third time, it was with a ringing headache and horrible clarity. He was in a hospital machine, attached to machines, with an intravenous drip in his arm. His back was aflame, dulled only by the slight muzziness that must have been caused by the pain relief. Gladio was asleep in a chair that was doing a woeful job of accommodating all of him. There were tear tracks down his cheeks.

Pain lanced through Ignis' shoulders as he tried to reach for him. He grit his teeth and squeezed Gladio's hand.

Gladio started awake. “Shit! Iggy. No, don't move.” He returned Ignis' arm to his side, wincing when Ignis hissed at the motion. “Don't try and move, okay? Doctors said you need to rest. Let the muscles knit.”

“I'm fine, Gladio.”

“No. You're not. They fucking-- They tore chunks out of you, Iggy. You nearly fucking died. So you're gonna stay put and recover.”

“It was only a flogger--”

“Only? Gods, Iggy.” Tears started to flow freely down Gladio's face and that was far worse than any corporal punishment in the world. “They stripped you right down to the muscle. So what the fuck are you playing at, pretending you're fine?”

Not wanting to add to Gladio's distress, Ignis didn't reach for him again. Didn't put his arms around him like he wished to. “Will I recover?”

Gladio wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Yeah. It'll take a while and physio but yeah. Nothing permanent. We're lucky we got potions on you when we did.”

“I didn't scream.” It was important Gladio knew that. “I didn't give in to them either.”

“That's about what I expected, you dumbass. You shouldn'ta given them a challenge.” The tears were drying up as Gladio got himself back under control. “I killed two of them. I had to bash Sella's skull in with my shield cause he woulda killed Castor and he seemed like he was enjoying it too. I knocked Murus down one of those holes in the floor and he broke his damn neck. The rest are in the holding cells. They've been kicked out of the glaive, stripped of their magic. My dad wanted to exile them but the people outside the wall don't deserve that shit either. The rest of us wanted to see what you wanted when you woke up.”

“Pollux came to rescue me too. I saw him--”

Gladio held up a hand. He closed his eyes for a moment, more tears squeezing from the corners. “He's how we found you. He confessed, Iggy. Right after they took you. Musta had a change of heart. There was a guard who was in on it too.” That was how Albus had been so well-informed about Ignis' personal life. “Well, not in on it exactly. They were threatening his son. He was being blackmailed just like Pollux. He's not a glaive anymore either, by the way. We put him in another cell for now. Just him. ”

That was too much for Ignis to process right now, so he put it aside. “I heard Noctis demanding to see me?”

“That was a week ago. You've been drifting in and out. Usually only for a few seconds. Poor kid's a wreck. Doesn't know what's going on or why. It's up to you how much you want him to know. All he's been told is that you're badly injured.”

“And how about yourself? When's the last time you slept in a real bed?”

“You sound like my dad. And I'll tell you what I told him, I wanted to be here when you woke up for real.”

Ignis smiled, although the muscles in his face felt tender. “I can't say I ever regret waking up to you.”

Gladio let out a shaky laugh, more tears trickling down the sides of his face. “I love you, Iggy. Gotta tell you that now if you're gonna be a stupid asshole and nearly get murdered cause you're too stubborn to let anyone see you cry.”

“And I love you too, even if you are insulting my during my convalescence.”

Another shaky laugh. Perhaps it was the painkillers but even with the bags under his eyes and the redness from crying, Gladio's face looked more vivid and beautiful than it ever had. “Get some sleep. I gotta tell Noct he can visit before he does something drastic.”

Ignis tried to protest but the suggestion of sleep was like a siren's call. His eyelids were already drooping when Gladio pressed a butterfly-light kiss to his forehead.


	19. Chapter 19

When Ignis eventually woke with a clear head, it was Noct who was sitting by his side. He dropped his phone when he realised Ignis was awake. Literally dropped it. It clattered on the floor, quite forgotten. He leaned right over Ignis' bed, his face hanging above Ignis.

“Iggy! They wouldn't let me come see you before. You okay? Course not. That's a stupid question. How are you doing?”

“Fine, Noct.”

Noctis lowered his face and searched Ignis'. Whatever he found there must have satisfied him because he lowered himself back into the chair by Ignis' bedside, then placed Ignis' glasses on his face. Ignis blinked as his vision readjusted to them.

“No one wants to answer me about what happened,” Noct said. “Dad got all vague about it and Gladio brushed me off every time.”

“Noct.”

“It's okay. You don't have to tell me either. I know there's a bunch of glaives in the cells. And I know dad kicked them out. I can work it out from there.”

I taught him that, Ignis thought. To quietly observe things and then put the pieces together. “Don't do anything rash.”

“I won't. I can't do as much as dad anyway. But that's why you didn't want Prompto to join the glaives, right? Cause of what they were doing to you.”

“Yes.”

“You could've told me, you know. I could've—”

“No, Noct. You couldn't have stopped it.”

“How do you?” Noct's eyes were red too, like Gladio's had been. They were welling up. “I'm the prince. They're meant to be my glaives and do what I say. I would've stopped them!”

“You couldn't have.” In too few years, the kingdom and all its issue would fall to Noct. Until then, Ignis would do everything in his power to preserve the last of his innocence. “I would never have told you.”

Noct cried. A torrential downpour on Ignis' chest as he slumped over Ignis' bed, with his fists clenched in the thin sheet that covered Ignis. “You can't die, Ignis. Understood? That's a royal decree.”

Ignis petted his hair, still as soft as when they'd been six and eight, curling up to nap together. “I am, as always, a servant to the crown.”

###

It was another week before Ignis was allowed to leave the hospital. With a slew of appointments for check-ups and physical therapy, and Gladio clinging to his side like he'd been Velcroed there.

“Sure you should be walking?” he asked, as they made their way to the Citadel's main office. “Shouldn't you have crutches or something?”

“Being bedridden will only hinder the recovery progress and there's nothing wrong with my legs.”

“Your back--”

“Gladio. Really. There's no reason to fuss.” Ignis stood on his toes to give him a quick kiss. Gladio hung his arms by sides, not even daring to touch him back. “I'm fine.”

“Yeah, yeah. Promise me you'll get some sleep after this. I get you need to move around and you need to do this, but you need to take it easy too.”

“I promise, Gladio. I'm not planning to backflip my way across the royal chambers and then do a twelve step dance with his majesty. I intend to recover fully, even if that means I have to slow down.”

“You'd better.”

They'd kept the proceedings as private as possible. Only Regis, Clarus, and Cor were present. Regis sat at the head of a table usually reserved for high council meetings. Clarus, as always, stood behind his chair on the opposite side to his sword hand. Cor was pacing. That was a habit Ignis had noticed in Gladio too. He didn't like to sit when there was a chance there might be conflict even if it was only verbal.

“Good morning, Ignis,” Regis said. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, considering.”

“Can we get on with this?” Gladio said.

“Gladiolus!” Clarus barked, at the same time as Cor's stern. “Amicitia!”

“He needs constant rest, da-- sir, Marshall. So the sooner we can get this over with, the better.”

“Gladio.” Ignis pulled a chair out and directed him to sit. “I assure you, I'm quite capable of speaking for myself. Please forgive his insubordination. I'm sure this has been quite stressful enough for all of you.”

“For _us_?” Clarus said.

“Of course we were worried,” Regis said, as Gladio reluctantly took his seat and Ignis slid into the chair beside him. “But how we felt about this whole business is hardly our main concern. What is, is that you didn't come to us before things escalated to this extent. Cor came to me weeks ago worried about bullying in the ranks, but we never imagined it was something like this.”

Ignis tried to maintain his proper posture. He couldn't allow any of the muscles in his back to go slack, not if he wanted to fight again like he used to one day. Gladio wasn't entirely wide of the mark in his fussing. Ignis was already as tired as he had been after hours of training from just a short walk. “I'm sorry. I was afraid if I told any of you about any of this, someone else would get hurt.”

“No, no. That wasn't a reprimand. Not of you, at least. It's not in your nature to allow others to suffer. Which is why I trust you so with Noctis. If -– gods forbid –- something like this happens in the future, we want you to know that we will do anything in power to protect you and anyone else who requires it. And we have considerable power. Your safety is not a sacrifice we're willing to make again.”

Cor's pacing brought him to the table. “The glaives can get rowdy. I've had to haul them into my office for rough-housing or drinking more times than I can count. Most of 'em are just angry and stupid. Sometimes they take it out on each other. I thought it was some stupid bullying. Words and shaving cream in the locker--”

“You couldn't have known,” Ignis said. Albus was very good at disguising what he was.

“I shoulda known! You think I never kicked anyone out before? I thought I could spot a bad apple a mile away and what did I do? Praised them. Praised that son-of-a-bitch Albus for shooting lightning out of his fingers, while he was doing gods-know-what to the rest of you. I did that. Took a gods-damned monster under my wing, taught him how to take down an entire forsaken army, all so's he could bring it back and almost split you in half!”

“You did your duty.”

“It isn't my duty to put the people in my care in danger.”

Gladio shot up and slammed his hands down on the table hard enough to rattle it. “Will you all fuck off with this bullshit?”

“Gladio,” Ignis hissed, echoed by Clarus. He tried to tug Gladio back down into his seat. Which was fruitless in his current condition.

“No! Iggy's been though enough. He doesn't need you piling your shit onto him too. You feel guilty? Boo-fucking-hoo. It happened. Angst in your own gods-damned time, somewhere he can't see it. You just fucking said it's not in his nature to let others suffer. And here you all are, making him deal with yours. We didn't come here to hear that. We came here to deal with Albus and get it over with. So are you fucking done?”

They stared at Gladio, waiting for him to detonate again. Ignis closed his jaw. The gaping was unseemly.

“He's right, you know,” Cor said, eventually.

“ _He's_ going to get a sharp lesson in the fine art of discretion,” Clarus said. “But later. Park your ass back on that chair, Gladiolus.”

Gladio sat back down, glowering across the table.

“Well,” Regis said. “Let's get to the matter at hand then. What should we do with Albus and the other men in the cells?”

“Toss them in a room,” Clarus said. “Toss a fireball in after and lock the door.”

“Clarus, please. What do you think is the best course of action, Ignis?”

Capital punishment was out of the question. It hadn't been practised in Insomnia for over a century. He couldn't allow barbarism to beget barbarism. “Lifetime imprisonment. They must be put in separate facilities. Especially Albus.” Stripped of his magic and his alliances, perhaps he would repent. And if he didn't, at least the world would be safe from him.

“Done. What about the red-headed young man?”

Pollux. Ignis had put it aside and put it aside. Now was the time to deal with it. “I--”

A crownsguard flung the doors open. “Your majesty! There's been an incident in the holding cells.”

“What the fuck?” Gladio was already on his feet. “Did Albus escape?”

“No. It's not like that-- You'd better take a look.”

###

The cells that had housed Albus and his group of glaives were now a bloody mess. Gladio had tried to dissuade Ignis from coming along. 'Exerting yourself', he had called it. But Ignis had to know even if the brisk pace exhausted him. The glaives had been dispatched with ruthless efficiency, throats slashed and hearts stabbed. Some had taken longer to die than others, drag marks in the blood. Albus' corpse, however, had all of its limbs hacked off messily. There were no other wounds. He'd died aware of what was happening to him. That was abundantly clear from the death rictus.

A hooded figure kneeled beside him, supporting itself on his sword.

“He didn't injure anyone else,” the guard said. “Put them all to sleep. No one knew about it until the change of shift. If we get near him, he warps away. Otherwise, he just sits there. We didn't know what we should do.”

“May I talk to him?” Ignis asked.

“Iggy,” Gladio said. “What the fuck? No.”

“I wasn't asking you, Gladio.”

“Go ahead, Ignis,” Regis said. “We're right here, Gladiolus. Though I don't believe this young man intends to harm Ignis in any way.”

The cell door was already open. Ignis walked though and sat next to the kneeling figure.

“Pollux?”

Pollux turned his head. There were the same familiar tufts of red hair now escaping from his hood. The same constellation of freckles on his face. But his eyes were glassy and he was breathing hard. His pupils were pin-pricks.

“Hey Ignis,” he said. “I learned to warp.”

“I can see that.”

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I couldn't-- They'd have gang-raped Castor. They were gearing up to it. Kept dropping all these hints. They wanted to do it so bad. And he's gentle. He's good. He wouldn't have been able to take torture. He'd have given in and they'd have raped him and probably tortured him too. I couldn't-- I couldn't, I couldn't...” He leaned heavily on the sword, its point scraping against the cement floor. “They turned me into one of them. A stupid fucking drone for Albus. I couldn't let them. I couldn't. No matter how bad it made me. I had to...”

“You aren't like them, Pollux.”

He laughed bitterly. “How can you say that? I almost got you killed.”

“But I'm alive. And Castor is safe.”

“It wasn't worth it. What I did. Castor hates me. Can't even look at me.” He dipped his head toward Albus' corpse. “I know this doesn't fix it but they had to be stopped.”

“I'm not angry with you.”

Pollux burst into tears. “Why the fuck not? They were defenceless, you know. No magic. No weapons. But I figured that's what they did to other people and I'm just as sick as them now. So it makes no difference.”

“You protected your brother. There's no shame in that.”

“Like hell there isn't.”

“Let go of the sword, Pollux. It's making the guards nervous.”

“Sure.” Pollux laid down the sword. “I'm not gonna hurt anyone else. I swear.”

“I know. Now, we need to leave this cell so they can tidy the place up. Is that acceptable?”

“Yeah. I surrender or whatever. I won't escape again either. I just had to take care of this.” He pushed the hood from his face, then stood up and raised his arms. “Your majesty. I surrender.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is going to be okay.


	20. Chapter 20

After Pollux was re-arrested, he was put back in the same holding cell he'd escaped from with a heavier guard. Cor excused himself to speak with him about the incident. Ignis asked that Pollux be treated gently and not cut off from the source of his magic just yet. He supposed they'd reconvene in the same meeting room and decide where to go from there at a later date because Regis and Clarus also had to disappear to deal with the security issues. The moment they were clear of the cells, Gladio pulled Ignis behind one of the staff only doors.

It turned out to be a storage closet. A mop collapsed against Gladio's back but he ignored it. “You're really gonna go soft on him? After what he did to you?”

“We would both have done the same.”

“For each other? That's bullshit, Iggy. You know we can't--”

“For Noct.”

That shut Gladio up for all of a few seconds. “That's different.”

“Because he's the prince?”

“Cause without him there's no wall, no crystal, no future. You know that. You think I like what Lucis has stood for? What it's been responsible for? I don't any more than you do. But if we let it fall then everything, every atrocity, every abandoned territory, that was for nothing and the empire gets to raze the whole damn world. So yeah, it's different.”

“Castor is Pollux's whole world.”

Gladio clasped his hands around the back of Ignis' neck and touched their foreheads together. “I can't just let it go, Iggy. I almost lost you.”

“You don't have to.” Ignis stroked the hairs at Gladio's nape. He understood. Were this the other way around, if Pollux's betrayal had gotten Gladio tortured... “But I'm the one who Albus targeted, which means I get to decide the consequences.”

“But...”

“Gladio. It's rather hypocritical of you to do this after the lecture you gave his majesty earlier.”

With their faces still touching, Ignis could feel the unsteady breath Gladio pulled in. “My dad's gonna chew me out for that.”

“Probably.”

“I get you. It's up to you. It ain't like I wanna see Pollux killed or anything. Still can't believe he did any of this. Can't say I'll shed any tears for Albus and the rest of 'em, though.”

Ignis didn't know what to think about it. He wasn't thrilled that others had killed for him but he wouldn't grieve their loss either. If he had one regret it was that he hadn't resolved this by himself. “At least it's over.”

Gladio gave another shaky inhale followed by a brief kiss. “Yeah...”

###

Ignis asked that Pollux be exiled but allowed to retain his magic. The high council reportedly weren't happy about it but they could “choke on it”, as Gladio had put it. Pollux rotting in prison would serve nothing and no one. If he was sent outside the wall, then he could do some good for the people there. It meant that Castor resigned from the glaives too to accompany him but that was his choice. Through some further negotiations, Ignis guaranteed that he'd also retain his magic. Regis assured him that he trusted Ignis' assessment of their characters and also provided a car and some supplies for their journey.

In the time the arrangements took, Ignis' back regained some of its strength although he still had a ways to go on the flexibility front. It was enough that he could now manage to stay awake for a full six hours and start a light training routine on top of his physio.

It also meant he got to see Castor and Pollux off at Insomnia's gates. Gladio, of course, was on his heels. Pollux hung back by the car when Castor ran over to them.

“Thank you,” Castor said, wrapping both Ignis and Gladio in a hug. “Thank you, thank you.”

Gladio clapped Castor on the back. “Gonna miss you,” he said, voice rough.

Castor peeled away. “Me too but it's not the end, right? You both have my number.”

“If you return to Altissia it will be safe,” Ignis said, handing Castor the map he'd prepared. “The red route is the most efficient route.”

“We're not looking for safety, Ignis. If you can believe it after... We joined the glaive to help people. So that's what we'll do.”

“Then your best bet is to follow the green route to Meldacio Hunter Headquarters. I've marked the locations of other hunter outposts too. You should look for a man named Dave Auburnbrie on your way.”

“Wow.” Castor folded the map very carefully and tucked it into his jeans pocket. “Thanks! We'll do something worthwhile, I promise. We won't waste what you've given us.”

“You'd better not,” Gladio said. “Get your ass over here, Pollux!”

Pollux trudged over and visibly braced himself. “You finally gonna break my nose? Go on. You get a free shot. I deserve it.”

“No, asshole.” He pulled Castor and Pollux into one of his rib-creaking hugs. “Don't get killed out there.”

They stumbled when he released them. Pollux perhaps more from shock than the physical force. “Not planning on it,” he said. “We're gonna be the best damn hunters they've ever seen.”

“Damn right,” Castor said, grinning.

Ignis accepted a very careful hug from Pollux. “We'll make a difference out there. I'm not gonna fuck up again.”

Ignis returned the hug. “I know. You have my mobile number should you need it. Let me know how many daemons you destroy.”

When they broke the hug, Pollux stared at him. “How can you be this nice to me?” His lip started to tremble.

Oh dear. “Please don't cry. I've seen far too many tears lately.”

“Yeah.” Castor punched Pollux in the shoulder, although his eyes also shone more than they should. “You always used to roast me for crying so easily when we were kids.”

Pollux swallowed and forced himself to laugh. “You two keep your sweet asses safe too, yeah?”

“I guarantee my arse will stay exactly as sweet as it's always been.”

All three of them laughed and Gladio curled his arm around Ignis' waist. “I ain't gonna let anything else happen to him.”

“Whatever, Gladio,” Castor said. “More like he's not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Gladio caught him in a headlock and delivered a noogie so fierce, Ignis feared it might bald him. Castor laughed and squealed. Pollux tried to rescue him, only to end up in a matching headlock in the opposite arm.

“Your freakishly huge arms don't make it a lie!”

“Gladio!” Castor said. “We need to go.”

Gladio let them squirm free and jog back to the car. Castor wound down the window as they drove past. “Visit us if you ever go on a road trip, you two.”

###

Light training progressed into moderate training smoothly and then into his previous routine. Almost. Ignis hooked his feet under Gladio's ankles and brought him down by clasping him between his thighs, using the leverage to bring him down. Gladio collapsed like a felled great oak, flat out on the training mats. Belatedly, he brought up his training sword to guard. Ignis straddled him and braced his hands either side of his head.

“You're still going easy on me.”

The doctors, the healers, the physiotherapists, Cor, and even the psychologist he'd been ordered to see all agreed Ignis was ready to return to his duties. The only sceptic in the entire citadel was Gladio. 

“Who says you're not just kicking my ass like old times?” Gladio said.

“I do. You're uncharacteristically sloppy and you're pulling your strikes. Do I have to show you my medical records before you'll believe I'm ready?”

“I've seen your back.”

The scarring was permanent but the damage was purely cosmetic. He could flip as easily as ever and was as healthy as he'd ever been. King Regis and Noct had ensured he received the finest treatment Insomnia could offer. Regis personally provided him with more potions and elixirs than he could ever hope to use. But still, Gladio was going soft on him.

And it wasn't only their combat training that was suffering. The most intimate they'd been since Ignis' injury was falling asleep in the same bed. They'd barely even kissed, Gladio irrationally worrying that he'd put too much weight on Ignis and hurt his back again.

Ignis ground down on Gladio's cock. He was hard immediately, pupils blowing out as he stared at Ignis above him. He still had his training sword raised.

“Well, well, well,” Ignis said, sliding Gladio's cock between his buttocks. “It seems you haven't gone entirely soft on me.”

Gladio let out a strangled laugh. “Fuck, Iggy. That's terrible.”

“Is it now?” He took the training sword from Gladio's slack grip and tossed it aside. “What's terrible is the way you've teased me these past two months.” Ignis ground down again, making Gladio shudder underneath him.

“It ain't like I haven't thought about it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, but...” Gladio turned his head, avoiding Ignis' gaze. “Did you know you had nightmares the first couple of weeks?”

Actually, he hadn't. In his waking moments he rarely dwelled on what had happened. It was futile to let the actions of people who were dead and gone affect him. It had happened and he'd survived. He wouldn't be an eternal victim, even if his subconscious did apparently disagree. “I'm not traumatised.”

“It would be okay if you were, you know? Something like that, it's normal.”

“I'm fine.”

“Are you, though? I haven't seen you get angry about it, cry about it, even mention it except in your sleep, and then not even that. You can say you're fine all you want but how am I meant to believe it? You never let anyone know when you're not.”

“Do you want me to be affected by it?”

“Course not! But I don't want you burying it either, cause you know that doesn't help.”

Ignis sighed. Must they have this conversation again? “I'm well. Physically. Psychologically. Don't decide what's in my best interests for me.”

“It's not only about all this.”

“What else is there?”

“You know, you're my partner. Knocking your partner around ain't cool.”

“Gladio.” You stupid, ridiculous, giant teddy bear of a man. “That's very chivalrous of you but this hardly counts as 'knocking me around', not least because you've been refusing to fight me properly. We are crownsguard before we're anything else and our enemies certainly won't have your compunctions about hurting me. We need to train with each other at our full strength so that we can protect ourselves and protect our prince in the future.”

“I get it. Intellectually, I get it. I do. But...” Gladio ran his palms over the contours of Ignis' face. “Emotionally? I can't hurt you. It was the opposite with Noct after that daemon took him down and we somehow got him back. I was so mad at him for almost getting killed. Mad at myself for not stopping it. So outta control I started to scare myself into thinking I'd put him back in a wheelchair. I went way too hard on him--”

“You never injured Noct.”

“I know. I sorted my shit out. I'll do that here too. But I need time. So let's find other training partners until then, yeah?”

###

New training partners was one thing. Ignis couldn't simply find a new bed partner. But Gladio remained as uninterested in fucking him as he was in training with him. It had to be an extension of his strange and self-imposed rules about what he was 'allowed' to do with Ignis. Ignis respected his needs, of course, but that didn't make the frustration any easier to deal with.

His toys, his hands, his imagination. None of it compared to Gladio in the flesh. His thoughts drifted into inappropriate territory so often it was starting to get out of hand.

“Ignis? Hello? You in there?”

It took Ignis a few moments to realise Felix was trying to get his attention and had been for some time. He'd been walking from conference room C back to his rooms, so of course his mind had wandered. “What can I help you with?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to know if you'll be at the graduation? Figured it's something official so you'll probably be there anyway but if not, I wanted to invite you.”

Oh, yes. The graduation. The trainee glaives he'd trained with would soon be official members of the kingsglaive. “I'll be there in my official capacity. I'll wish you my congratulations now, in case I don't have the opportunity to then.”

“Yeah, thanks. And thanks for what you did for Castor and Pollux too. They're good kids. Messed up, but aren't we all?”

Indeed. Though it could certainly be worse.

“You okay, Ignis?”

Ignis bristled. “I'm as capable as I've ever been, if that's what you're getting at.”

“Hey now. I wasn't. You know Gladio still takes me out for drinks every now and then and he's a chatty drunk. About you especially. Seems to me his head's been stuck up his ass for a while.”

Not quite how Ignis would have put it, but he wasn't inclined to disagree.

“You didn't hear it from me but he's pretty desperate himself.” Felix winked at him in a way that broke at least three obscenity laws. “Send him a couple of sexts and he'll fold like wet tissue paper.”

###

A couple of sexts. _A couple of sexts._ The sheer scandalousness of it had Ignis half-hard in his briefs. He slid into his bedsheets, trying to ignore his phone's suddenly intrusive presence. It sat there on the dresser, innocently pretending at being his main organisational tool and not the source of his torment.

Surely Gladio would be upset about such obvious manipulation. Surely if Gladio was that hard-up he'd make some move to initiate things himself. Ignis could wait until then.

Even if he had already been waiting months.

Besides, it was a terrible idea. What if someone else picked up Gladio's phone? What if someone else saw the pictures somehow?

He'd keep his face out of them, of course. Anyone who recognised him just from his body would have some explaining to do themselves.

Ignis snatched up his phone and turned on the front-facing camera. He rolled the covers down and snapped a picture of his cock, now fully hard and stretching out his plain black boxer-briefs. Before he could change his mind, he sent it to Gladio.

A couple, Felix had suggested.

It took balancing his phone on the dresser, the self-timer, and considerable trial and error but Ignis managed to get the angle he wanted. He took a picture with his briefs rolled down his thighs and two fingers inside himself. Flushed at his own daring, Ignis sent it.

There was no answer from Gladio. To either. Ignis resigned himself to his toy tonight and dealing with the mortification in the morning. He was reaching for the false bottom of his sock drawer again when someone hammered on his door hard enough to make the outer wall curve inward.

Victory.

Gladio was wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants and shone with sweat. He'd obviously ran all the way here.

“Okay,” Gladio said, as Ignis opened the door to allow him in. “You win. But you've gotta tell me if it's too much or if I'm hurting you.”

“You won't be able to hurt me.”

“Huh?”

It wasn't bravado. Ignis guided Gladio down onto the bed. He lifted the false bottom of his sock drawer and removed his newest acquisition: a pair of sturdy, padded cuffs, each with a thick chain that could be hooked to his bed posts. If Gladio was determined to escape, they certainly wouldn't stop him. He could probably snap the chains in two. But they might at least provide him with some reassurance.

“Is this all right?” Ignis asked.

In his sweatpants, Gladio's erection was obvious. “Yeah.” He brushed his lips over Ignis' pecs as he leaned over to latch the chains to the bedposts. “Enjoying the view.”

Ignis locked the cuffs around each of his wrists, humming in satisfaction that he'd made the correct choice selecting the extra large variety. “I take it you received my texts?”

“Fuck yes. Got 'em stored in my phone and the spank bank.”

 _Thank you, Felix_. “Then you'll know I've already prepared.” He'd been only half-hard in anticipation of the toy while he fingered himself but now that Gladio was spread out before him, he was at full-mast. He slipped off his briefs, flushing as Gladio's gaze trailed over his body.

Ignis pulled Gladio's sweatpants down. Just enough to get the job done. His huge, hard cock sprang free and Ignis let the waistband of the sweatpants rest just beneath his hips to restrict the movement of his legs. He took the lube he'd set aside and stroked Gladio with a slippery hand. Gladio twitched, fucking up into the grip.

It was tempting to tease him. Perhaps bring him just to the point of release and then let go but Ignis had been denied far too long for that. 

He straddled Gladio and guided his cock inside him. He'd intended to be slow and teasing but the moment the tip spread him he immediately wanted more. He sank down to the root, moaning, toes curling in the mattress as Gladio filled him and filled him.

Gladio let out a blissful sigh. “Gods, Iggy.”

Ignis lifted himself up and slammed back down, drawing a moan from Gladio. “I like having you at my mercy.”

“Happy to be here.” Gladio groaned as Ignis raised himself until only Gladio's tip was inside him, then slammed back down again. “Iggy. Fuck. I'm gonna--”

A shocked moan escaped Ignis as Gladio came the next time he seated himself. Gladio let out a few strangled grunts, cringing into his own shoulder.

“Shit,” he said, red and sweaty from orgasm. “Sorry. Kinda on a hair trigger at the moment. And you're so fucking sexy like this--”

“Shhhh.” Gladio was still hard inside him. Ignis was on the verge himself from the way Gladio had filled him. “May I continue?”

Gladio turned his head back to Ignis. “Fuck yes!”

Of course, Ignis adored it when Gladio took control too but there was a lot to be said in favour of setting his own pace. Ignis rode Gladio as hard as he could, the muscles in his thighs straining as he drew himself up and slammed himself down over and over again. Taking Gladio's cock as deep as it could go and then letting it slide almost free so he could chase the feeling again and again.

Gladio writhed underneath him, driven as wild as he was. The chains at his wrists clinked but he didn't try to break them. His low moans echoed after Ignis'.

“I don't fucking believe this!”

Gladio's hips lurched up, meeting Ignis as he slammed back down. He came again and Ignis ground down into the sensation, his own cock pulsing.

“Come on me,” Gladio said. “Please. Fuck.”

How could he possibly refuse? Ignis clenched around Gladio a last couple of times, relishing the noises it pulled from him. Then he leaned forward on his knees.

He barely had to squeeze himself before he was streaking Gladio from lips to heaving chest, forcing his eyes to stay open so he could imprint the image on his memory.

Gladio looked up at him. He looked like a painting. A literal painting _Ifrit Tempts Mankind_ , which he'd once called 'the horniest thing the old masters ever put to canvas.' “Hey,” he said. “Can I see?”

Ignis was still addled from his own orgasm and the sight of him but he already knew he was going to agree to whatever Gladio asked. “See what?”

“You know, your ass.”

“Gladio!” He really shouldn't be so scandalised after he'd just ridden Gladio into oblivion and came on his face, but he still blushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“I was real good for you, right?”

“Yes. Very good.” Why was he even hesitating? He certainly hadn't had the same compunctions when he'd been taking those photographs.

He turned so that he was on all fours across Gladio's body and spread himself for him. Still flushed at his own daring, he strained his neck, trying to gage Gladio's reaction.

“Fuck me, that's hot. You're still all stretched out.”

Ignis pinched his thighs together, ignoring the arousal that had hit him in the gut like a punch. “All right, that's quite enough of that. We need to shower before we ruin my bedding.”

He unlocked Gladio's cuffs. He was sated and cuddly, making their path to the shower ten times longer than it needed to be. He kept pulling Ignis into him and peppering kisses over every part of him he could reach. “Love you, Iggy.”

When they finally made it to the shower, he hung over Ignis' back like a giant sloth while Ignis attempted to turn the dials and actually get them clean. Ignis turned his head to kiss him. “I love you too.”

###

The lay tangled together in clean sheets – no thanks to Gladio who had flopped down sopping wet and naked in their dirty ones, only allowing Ignis to change them under threat of violence. Ignis was now lying with his face crushed into Gladio's pecs, making him the envy of roughly half the kingdom. They were both drifting off, Gladio lazily toying with the hair at the nape of Ignis' neck.

His touch wandered downwards. Gladio's breath hitched as his fingertips met the ridges and dips of the scars on Ignis' back.

And just like that, Ignis was wide awake. “Does it bother you?”

“No! I mean, I hate thinking about what happened but it doesn't bother me how I think you meant it.” He ran his fingers across every scar he could reach. Ignis arched into it, the newly-healed skin far too sensitive. “They just show what a badass you are.”

“Mm. Did you bring your phone?”

“No. I was kinda in a hurry. Why?”

“So I can delete the photographs I sent you.”

“No way! Those are mine.”

“It's too much of a risk. And stop that, you look ridiculous when you pout.”

“Ain't pouting.”

Ignis laughed and gave Gladio a commiseration pat on the pec. “I'll get us a burner phone each. We'll replenish your collection in no time.”

“I get to have a whole collection?”

“We'll trade.”

“Can't say fairer than that.” Gladio shuffled down further into the bed and pulled Ignis' arm over him.

Ignis smiled into the back of his neck, adjusting to the new position. “You really do stretch the definition of little spoon.” 

“Can't hear you over the comfy.”

Ignis tucked his knees more tightly under Gladio's amd ran his palm over Gladio's chest and abs. Comfy indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through slow updates, a lack of a beta reader, all the rough stuff, and ten thousand mentions of boxer briefs. I really appreciate all your comments and kudos and just a million <3333 to everyone.
> 
> I have big plans for a sequel but I'm a very slow writer so it will probably take me a while to get even a first chapter of it out but I also have another (much fluffier) fic halfway done.
> 
> Thanks again!
> 
> ETA: I've started the sequel here:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/18695092/chapters/44337682


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